Restoration
by FracturedLights
Summary: Hogwarts is broken; left in pieces by a war. It needs to be rebuilt, and so do the people who battled on both sides. When Hermione tries to put together her school, and herself, she discovers just how deep some wounds can cut, and that some things have surprising cures. Dramione. Not Epilogue Friendly. T.
1. Blood and Stone

AN: I don't mean to do this, but unfortunately, I feel it is necessary. Restoration; chapters 1-4 are currently being re-written due to the originals being completely abysmal. It is also something to note, that Restoration is quite a slow burning fic. It is at chapter 4 that something actually feels like it is starting to happen, but the first three are to give you an idea of what needs to be done, and what is to come. If you are a first time reader, I hope you can bare with me, if you're a follower; I suggest re-reading and deciding if it's worth sticking with from there on. Last of all, thank you all very much for taking the time to have a look at my first fic in way too many years. All my love to you and your kindness.

"It's over Albus," Minerva said, peering up at a portrait hanging in the Heads office of Hogwarts. The elderly gentleman in the picture, shifted in his chair slightly, untangling his hands from the depths of a beard as long as winter.

"Yes, I was…wondering," he said eventually, the blue hued eyes peering at Minerva with a sad, curious gaze, "your presence here means we won I assume." The statement wasn't a question, and the corners of his mouth twitched into a slight jovial smile.

"We won, but…there are losses." The deep, rich tones of Kinglsey Shacklebolt joined the fray, his tall stature turning to join McGonagall In her conversation.

"Naturally," Albus stated, leaning back into his chair as if to ease the conversation into an easier state. His old office was tainted with the sting of loss, anger and confusion, the living pair that stood below him both wore expressions of weariness. Dumbledore shifted in his chair once more, as he studied Minerva carefully. Her wiry grey hair was loose. Wild about her shoulders, matted with blood and the slightest hint of her severe bun sagged at the top of her head. Her tartan robes were torn, several patches of dust were indicative of a fall she had taken about her knees, and a rip in her sleeve revealed a sparkling patch of ruby. Her blood had trickled down her arm to the back of her hand, and a garnet stain was now there like a tattoo. Minerva paid it no heed, instead summoning two chairs for both herself and Shacklebolt. She sunk into one, seeming to become the fabric of the chair itself as her figure relaxed into the plush velvet armchair.

Shacklebolt was inspecting a cabinet to Dumbledore's left, his own figure marred by the efforts of a fight. His face was blood splattered; a graze gracing his left cheek; as though he had not been able to look away from an explosion fast enough, the tracks of shrapnel had left little paths of blood down his face. It gave any little motion of his mouth a grim shadow, an odd sense of foreboding that did not belong to him. Shacklebolt's deep red robes were missing a sleeve, and the lapels had been roughly removed at some point in the night, but it was the way he favoured putting his weight on his right foot that told Albus that Madam Pomfrey would be busy that night. The pair looked all for the world as if they had been caught in a hurricane with no notice. Dumbledore entwined his hands twirling his thumbs about one another as Shacklebolts hunt turned up successful.

A pair of goblets, and a bottle of wine were raised in triumph, and Minerva gave an amused glance to the delighted looking man.

"We both need it Madam," Kingsley said, a cheeky note to his voice as he placed the goblets down on the headmasters desk, tapping his wand on the neck of the bottle to release a red liquid that had no promise of pain associated with it. He poured them a goblet each, and the sound of the red wine flowing joined the oddly disjointed yet relaxing music of the office. Passing a goblet to Minerva, he settled himself down into the chair she had summoned for him as Albus took note they had chosen to sit the same side of his old desk. The chair the head would sit in empty, he smiled wistfully to himself, noting the unsaid mark of respect they still showed him.

"You are both aware the work is only just beginning again aren't you?" He said gently, an amused but sad twinkle seemed to glimmer in the oil of his painting. Minerva sighed, and leant back in to her chair, as Kingsley released a dark chuckle. The lullaby of the tinkling objects ruled the noise in the office for a minute more, as the pair relaxed to a song that would not build into a crescendo of pain, loss and agony. Eventually, Shacklebolt raised his untouched goblet to Dumbledore, and Minerva followed suit.

"A war well fought," he murmured, and took a long gulp of wine as Minerva sipped at hers; a look of bliss coming over her usually stern features. Eventually, Minerva placed her goblet down, and raised her wand. A concentrated expression flickered to life and her tabby cat patronus burst forward and fled the room without a second thought.

"I've told Filius to lift the ward on the admissions book, then to come here." She explained, settling back into the soft back of her arm-chair. "Although I suppose you'd like us to explain to you what has happened now?" She asked Albus, raising an eyebrow although she already knew the answer.

"I would," He replied, leaning forward ever so slightly as if he were hoping he could just fall out of his portrait into the world of the living to hear her tale.

"Voldemort is dead. Mr Potter managed to kill him;" she began, and her recounting of the evenings events began uninterrupted; bar the sip of wine once in a while for her courage, and to wet her throat. Dumbledore listened rapturously, a shrewd, proud smile spreading across his features. A low shudder suddenly shook the castle, and the echoes of alarmed screams and spells made the relaxing pair jump.

"That would be Filius," Minerva said, her sharp logical mind springing into action, as Shacklebolt looked ready to bolt out the office. A moment later, the magically enhanced voice of the charms professor wafted through their alarmed senses.

"Apologies to all who may be in Hogwarts at this very moment. I am Filius Flitwick, the charms professor of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry; the disturbance you just felt was the removal of a ward placed on the admissions book to the school. It is the first step taken in repairing the school, and not something to be afraid of. Again. My sincerest apologies."

The voice died down, and a low chuckles from the three, added to the disjointed music of the room.

"Formal of Filius," Shacklebolt smiled, as Albus nodded jovially along.

"He was right though, it is the very first step in repairing Hogwarts." Minerva sighed, as she turned her gaze to the windows, watching the stream of letters fly past and then spread in many different directions before vanishing. "Next year's first year will be the largest we've had in a long time, but better we barred them from coming this year; lest the first impression the Muggleborns get of the Wizarding world is that we wish them dead." Minerva said, almost to herself as the reassuring hand of Kingsley came to rest comfortingly on her shoulder.

"You most definitely did the right thing." He assured her, his face strong and compassionate. "It does also bring up the subject of repairing the school; the world will need something normal to look forward to. What is more normal than school?" He asked, a spark of amusement glittering in the depths of his eyes.

"You are right, and Hogwarts will be repaired, but we just don't know how. Hogwarts isn't a normal school. The wards were centuries old. It isn't just a case of casting 'repairo', and being done with it."

"There is always a way Minerva," soothed Dumbledore, as his old friends distress became apparent; "For now, repair what you can."

"I can send Pomona to make a list of all the things that can be repaired, now I suppose, things like what needs to be restocked, damaged portraits, books…" she sighed, her silver tabby cat appearing and bounding out of the office for the second time that evening.

"It's a very good start," Albus said kindly, watching the tabby cat vanish.

"I think you are also forgetting we have Miss Granger on our side," Kingsley said pointedly, as Minerva raised a thoughtful eyebrow at him, mulling the idea over in her mind. She dipped her head slightly for a moment, acknowledging his point; and Shacklebolt took the gesture as an indication for him to continue.

"I have sent for Auror teams and for healing teams at St. Mungo's," Shacklebolt broke in, desperate to calm the witch known for her usually fair and calm mind. "There should be no bodies left by nightfall, and all the wounded should be either treated, or in St. Mungo's. Step three." He explained, hearing McGonagall breathe deeply, steeling herself for the work to come. Shacklebolt stepped back, revelling in the admiration for the woman.

"Ridiculous, I speak of this school as if it were mine." Minerva said eventually, throwing her hands up beside her head as she made to sit once more.

"Hogwarts will need a new Head, one that was voted in by the Governors," Albus said pointedly, raising a brow towards the transfiguration Professor.

"Oh I suppose…"She sighed, as Kingsley peered at the revealed pensieve with a slightly alarmed expression.

"I assume the Ministry will need a new Minister also, what with Thicknesse being imperioused all this time…" he said to himself as Minerva clicked her tongue in irritation at the thought. An amicable silence fell over the room once more, and Minerva poured Flitwick a goblet of wine into a fresh goblet as she realised he would be nearing soon.

A click at the door alerted the pair to another presence in the office, and Filius stood, dwarfed by the dual figures of Hermione Granger and Harry Potter.

"Filius," Shacklebolt welcomed immediately, seemingly not noticing the two teenagers for a moment, until his eyes lifted; he nodded to Harry in respect, before offering Hermione the same gesture. A blush decorated the dull cheeks of Hermione as she stepped curiously into the office, her brown eyes roaming all over the books and objects with an undisguised expression of hunger and glee.

"I need to speak to all of you," Harry broke in to the silence that seemed to be so familiar to those gathered in the room.

"Of course Mr Potter," McGonagall said, falling into the role of deputy headmistress so effortlessly she surprised herself, but the interested expression that remained so neutral didn't shift from her face, and Shacklebolt summoned yet more chairs.

Harry's gaze seemed to have set upon Dumbledore's portrait, and a curious expression was plastered to his features. Albus on the other hand; looked as though he was torn between laughter and remaining impassive as he could.

"The stone?" Albus eventually asked, cocking a brow at the young man.

"Lost," Harry replied, ambiguously, but Albus seemed to have understood it and he nodded considering.

"Yes, that is best." He seemed to say to himself, before returning his gaze to Harry once more, a realistic sharpness seemed to linger in the oils that made up his eye and Minerva found herself studying the pair curiously. "The wand?" Albus continued, and Harry's features tightened for a moment before relaxing, Hermione had shifted her weight a little, her own eyes coming to a stop on the back of Harry's head, a disapproving expression looking as though it was about to be unleashed.

"What wand? Mine? It's absolutely fine; I just couldn't use it for a while." Harry replied, a lightness to his voice as he waved his grubby looking wand in the air, a few red and gold sparks shooting from the end as he seemed to realise it, and hastened to rub it with his t-shirt. Dumbledore chuckled as Hermione visibly relaxed.

"Good, good," Dumbledore mused, and Harry unleashed a grin at the portrait. "I suppose you better tell us everything." Dumbledore said, and the tone to his voice seemed to imply that Harry's previous answer to his question wouldn't suit the explanation he was to give. Harry nodded stiffly, but seemed to accept it, whilst Hermione began to hover warily again. Harry's voice was tumbling forth, spilling rivers of bloody tales and oceans of horrors into the mounting tension in the office despite everyone knowing the eventual outcome.

"Snape…he…he loved my mother." Harry eventually said, as he regaled them with the explanation of why he had gone to the shrieking shack. "His body! It's still there!" He said alarmed, and Minerva sat up dead straight.

"He didn't make it?" She asked him, desperately, shocked and surprised.

"No, Nagini…" Hermione answered for a surprised looking Harry who was staring at her with wide green eyes. Minerva fell back into her chair for what seemed like the millionth time that night, and draped her head in his hands.

"I never imagined he would die in all of this," she said quietly, to the sympathetic and surprised gazes of the room.

"He was a better man than we gave him credit for, even if he was a total bastard." Shacklebolt seemed to agree, nodding his head in sympathy as Flitwick spat out a mouthful of wine. Kinglsey's wand seemed to suddenly erupt, and his lynx patronus slipped forth, bounding out the room much like Minerva's had done not too long ago. "I've sent an auror team to collect him and to get any remaining bodies or death eaters that may be there. Everyone goes into custody, alive or dead." He explained, a hardened, battle-worthy exterior sliding into place as he nodded for Harry to continue. Harry did, until the words came to an exhausted stop. Without asking, he poured himself his own glass of wine, and gulped it down, seemingly not realising what it was. He placed the goblet back down as everyone's shocked expressions lingered on him.

"Merlin, didn't realise it was wine. Thought it was something else." He muttered, a revolted grimace revealing he'd told the truth. Hermione sighed, as Shacklebolt laughed quietly.

"Where is the wand now?" Dumbledore asked as Harry looked up at him.

"Where it belongs," he replied, and a weight seemed to lift of Hermione's shoulders.

"Every time you are asked that question Harry, I suggest you stick to that answer." Shacklebolt said seriously, his gaze appraising Harry, studiously taking in his appearance. Something seemed to be ticking in the back of Kingsley's mind, and Hermione was receiving the same treatment of Shacklebolt's lightning sharp gaze.

"I will."

"So there is nothing that can be done to save Severus then?" Flitwick asked suddenly, swilling his wine about in his goblet as he watched it.

"No," Hermione responded, "Voldemort made sure…he…"

"I understand Miss Granger; it is just a surprise and a shame. I might agree with Shacklebolt, but he was a talented man who apparently did more for the order than I ever would have guessed." He sighed, his entire tiny stature seeming to grow and shrink with the action, "I suppose we ought to put his portrait up then?" Flitwick asked, looking to Minerva with an air of resignation.

"We can't," Minerva replied, surprised; "the only portraits that go on these walls are the Head's that were appointed by the governors, Snape wasn't voted in. I know the Death Eaters made him have a portrait made, but that was because they thought they would have permanent involvement in the school."

"Hang him in the potions classroom then," Flitwick said offhandedly, "It fits; one of the best potions masters the school has ever had where he belongs, and it always helps to have another set of eyes in a room that know what they're on about. In fact, I'll do it now." Flitwick slid off the chair he'd perched upon, and left the office, not waiting to hear anyone voice any disagreement. None was voiced however, and a silent agreement and acceptance blanketed them all for a short time.

"Miss Granger, you seem to be here, but not Mr Weasley, why is that?" Minerva said after a while, a kindly smile gracing her mouth, and Shacklebolt seemed to eagerly await her answer. Hermione jumped slightly at being addressed; tearing her gaze away from a book she could barely make out the title of and turned her blushing gaze to her teacher.

"I need to come back to school the next year." She blurted, looking relieved as she said it. "I need to get my N.E. , and…and I need something normal." Hermione sighed, an expression of disappointment fell into place on Shacklebolts features, and he turned, cursing quietly to himself. Dumbledore watched the man, with an amused upturn to the corners of his mouth.

"Aaaah, Hermione, I was going to offer yourself, Ron and Harry here jobs in the auror department. Start training in a month; give you some time to relax." Shacklebolt sighed, the disappointment rife.

"I'll accept." Harry said almost immediately, Shacklebolt gave him a wry smile.

"We shall talk about the terms of your employment at a later date then Mr Potter."

"I look forward to it." Harry replied, as he stood up to leave. Hermione threw him a surprised yet resigned glance, before looking to Shacklebolt, the picture of apologies.

"I'm sorry Kingsley…I can't, not yet. It feels wrong for me to drop out of school and then get a job in the ministry just because I helped defeat Voldemort…I can't." Her eyes were wide in her gaunt face, a patchwork of cuts, bruises and burns giving her skin a tone to her waxen pallor.

"Miss Granger, you will always be welcome in my department in the Ministry, N.E. or not. The offer will always stand." Shacklebolt smiled at her, his eyes warm, and she visibly relaxed as Harry grinned at her.

"I'm going to go to the Burrow, need to see Mrs Weasley." Harry informed the room, before his face seemed to change and his hand went to his back pocket. "Before I forget; Malfoy's wand. Better give it up now before he comes hexing me for it." He said, taking the wand of Hawthorn out and placing it on to Dumbledore's desk. He looked at it thoughtfully, his fingers seeming to linger over the wood fondly. A moment later, he turned and left, nodding to each of them as he passed. Shacklebolt had turned to Minerva with a slight start, his mouth opened as if he were to say something before remembering where he was and who he was with.

"See you all later, I promise." Harry said gruffly, somehow trying to squash the emotion he felt in his voice that he clearly hadn't expected, and closed the door to the office behind him as the staircase slipped into life again. Minerva had turned to Hermione again, who was tentatively running her fingers across a rather old looking copy of _Hogwarts: A History_, with a look of sheer adoration.

"Miss Granger, you will be welcomed back to Hogwarts with open arms, I will make sure of it." Minerva said, a steely edge to her tone as her eyes flashed.

"You will make sure of it?" Hermione asked curiously, tilting her head to the side as waves of messy, tangled brown hair fell over her shoulder. Minerva sighed, and placed a hand on the back of one of the chairs to steady her.

"The last official head of Hogwarts was Albus Dumbledore, and he has passed. A new one needs to be voted in by the board of governors; what I am saying to you Miss Granger, is that I will have you back in this school – and anyone else who wishes to repeat the year they missed weather the new head of Hogwarts, and the governors; like it or not." She explained, as a small round of applause came from the portraits, many nodding with approval.

"I shall send a letter to the governors urging them to make a fast decision,"Shacklebolt said, getting up to dig some parchment, quill and ink out of the desk, "the faster we have things rolling, the faster we can start fixing this school. Saying that, I ought to write to the Wizengamot…see what they are thinking about Thicknesse…" he trailed off as his quill scratched across the parchment, his brow furrowed as he thought to himself.

"So, you'll make sure I can come back?" Hermione asked again, desperation written in her stance like a cornered lion.

"The only way you will not return as a student of Hogwarts, is over my dead body." Minerva replied, "If this is what you want, it is what you shall have. As Shacklebolt said earlier, 'what is more normal than school?', if you need it, Hogwarts must be here for you." She implored, her stern eyes studying the girl before her with a surety in her eyes. Hermione sighed, and nodded, relief flooding her. A crack made the two women jump, and they spun to face Kingsley who was handing several pieces of parchment to a house-elf and muttering to him. Another crack and the house-elf vanished. Kingsley turned to look at them, a pleased expression on his face.

"I was hoping you hadn't left. Harry reminded me about something," he began, nodding to Hermione and turning to Minerva with a pained expression. "I can't detain Draco Malfoy, but I can his parents. It's an old technicality in the law to do with his age. He may have a Dark Mark, but it's more to do with when he took it."

"What do you mean?" Minerva said sharply, her eyes narrowing as Kingsley sighed and Hermione looked confused as to why she was there.

"If the boy had taken the Dark Mark at seventeen, I could have him in my holding cells, but he took at sixteen; according to what his mother said to me earlier when I was arresting her. It means I would be arresting a child, and I can't do that. I need to have him under house-arrest in until his trial. I can't have him at home, the Ministry is illegal, and here seems to be the only other logical option. Plenty of eyes on him at all times; right now he has no wand, little he can do." Shacklebolt explained, almost wishing he could sink through the floor under Minerva's intense gaze.

"The boy is better than you give him credit for," Albus's voice joined in the fray for the first time in a long time.

"You're the only one of us who saw something decent in him Albus, and forgive me for not being able to." Minerva replied stiffly, her lips white.

"I forgive you, but there was nothing to forgive you for." He said, a slight hint of sadness tainting his tone.

"I am sorry Minerva," Shacklebolt said quietly, "This is not my choice, and I'd have him elsewhere if it were up to me."

"Oh I know," She said, brushing off his apology with a weak smile, "just when you think it's all over…can we not place him with Molly?" She said suddenly, looking to Shacklebolt with a renewed sense of surety. Shacklebolt laughed as Minerva placed her palm over her face, Hermione spluttering with alarm behind him. "That was foolish, that would never go well. I just don't want to have him here whilst we're trying to repair the place." She reasoned, as several of the eavesdropping portraits muttered between themselves.

"I understand, and I do apologise, I will do my best to push the Malfoy trials though fast so he doesn't have to be here long." Shacklebolt appeased, peering at Minerva with concerned eyes.

"Oh, summon Mr Malfoy to this office then, let's tell him what will happen to him."

Shacklebolt's wand exploded again, and his Lynx fled once more, a now familiar scene to the office.

"Eeerrr…should I leave?" Hermione broke in, gesturing towards the door.

"Entirely up to you Miss Granger," Kingsley replied cryptically, a curious expression on his face. Realisation suddenly dawned on Hermione and her eyes widened as her comprehension startled her.

"You want me here because you want him to see a muggle-born. You want him to think I was here helping make the decision." She breathed, impressed with Shacklebolt's line of thought.

"Mr Malfoy's trial will be different to the other trials because we will have to figure out if he actually wanted to be a part of the Death Eaters, or if it was something he had no choice in. His age and actions will be examined far more than the others. Seeing that muggle-borns will always be in the wizarding world and quite possibly involved in his future will be a reminder he will need. Especially if his trial means he escapes Azkaban." Shacklebolt explained, his eyes hard as he faced the door, expecting the youngest Malfoy. His words seemed to surprise Hermione, and she thought desperately.

"What does his age have to do with it really?" She asked, "I mean, what does when he took the Dark Mark really matter?"

"You would have me send a bullied sixteen year old to Azkaban? A minor who has no legal choice over his actions?" His response was swift and sharp, almost scathing at Hermione's lack of use of her intelligence.

"What if he wanted it, if he believes in it?" She breathed turning Shacklebolts words over in her head, her brain screaming at the effort of thinking.

"Then he will be convicted, and to Azkaban he goes." The movement of the stairs made them all adopt far more official and serious stances, "say nothing Hermione," Kingsley told her quietly, affection dancing in his eyes before he turned to face the door again.

Moments later the door opened, and Draco Malfoy entered.

He seemed taller, Hermione considered, as she looked her childhood bully over; he was wearing a suit that was mottled in dust, blood stains, and several scuffs. One impressive rip was over his knee, but it didn't diminish from his graceful stature. He stood at the entrance of the room as if he were meant to be there, bruises were starting to bloom on his alabaster skin, his hair was darker than usual; a light coating of dust had faded his platinum locks to sunshine like gold, contrasting with the silver pools that were his eyes.

"Mr Malfoy," Kingsley said taking the lead, stepping forward with an elegant twist of his wrist gestured to the seat Flitwick had perched upon. "Sit."

"I'd rather stand," Malfoy replied instantly, his voice tired, and it was then that Hermione realised he was trembling ever so slightly.

"As you wish," Shacklebolt said, hardly phased by the response to his offer.

"Why am I here? Shouldn't I be at the Ministry?" He asked, his voice steady, but his arms folded over his chest, in an effort to disguise his terrified shakes. His poise seemed to belong in the room, as though he was made to rule Hogwarts, not stand being accused within its walls. His eyes never left Shacklebolt, his expression was measured, and carefully doled out into the perfect mix of respect, curiosity and derision at the situation.

"You are a difficult case Mr Malfoy, legally; I cannot detain you thanks to an archaic law. If it were up to me, you would be at the ministry this instant. As such, the only thing I can do is place you under house-arrest." The beginnings of a smirk was beginning to develop over the perfect angles of his face, his weight seeming to settle onto all of his feet instead of just his toes as he relaxed.

"Oh it's not a joke Mr Malfoy, one step out of line and I can and will have you arrested for even the smallest of things." Shacklebolt calmly reprimanded as he noticed the smirk come into bloom. The expression died as fast as it grew, and was replaced with of the perfectly created masks of uncaring at the situation Hermione had seen one too many times. His eyes scanned the room and met Hermione's. Instantly, he seemed to pale, as the silver pools widened with unrestrained shock. Hermione stared back brazenly, her expression neutral. His head snapped back to Shacklebolt, whose own eyes had narrowed, a harsh sparkle lingering behind them.

"Miss Granger here, was returning your wand." He said, answering the unspoken question in the beat of a heart. He gestured to the wand behind him on the desk, stepping to the side in a pose of permission. "You may take it."

Malfoy moved instantly, fast elegant strides towards the heads desk until his long pointed fingers had wrapped around the handle of his wand. A euphoric smile split across his face, and Hermione bit back a gasp as she realised it was the first real smile she had ever seen on his face. He looked carefree and…attractive, she realised, biting back a hint of curiosity that seemed to burn in her stomach; the subject being Draco Malfoy.

Draco however, looked for the entire world as though he had forgotten he had an audience, and made to leave the office, presuming all was over. He hadn't noticed that Shacklebolt had taken two swift silent steps to position himself behind him. Shacklebolts wand tapped Malfoy's shoulder, and a faint blue glow seemed to settle into his skin. Terror tore across the pale features and his eyes blazed with horror. Freezing completely, he swallowed, his lips parting coming together in a pale pink line.

"What was that?" He asked eventually, so quietly Hermione had to strain to hear him.

"The trace. On you; and your wand." Shacklebolt answered, looking Malfoy in the eyes, his unsympathetic gaze stern.

"Of course," Malfoy said to himself, mentally brushing himself off and looking at McGonagall, his posture hardening.

"If…If I don't end up going to Azkaban…I would like to come back to Hogwarts," he told her gruffly, looking as through the effort of saying the lone sentence had caused him acute physical pain.

"We shall see Mr Malfoy," Minerva replied sadly, the promise she had previously given Hermione seemed to linger in the air between them like a tangible wall of text.

He nodded stiffly; realising that that answer was the best he was going to get. Mentally brushing himself off, he left, not before throwing Hermione a last curious glance. The moment the door shut, Hermione had placed her wand to her temple, a silver thread attached to the end of it, and she wildly began looking about for a glass to put it in.

"Hermione!" Minerva gasped, surprised, summoning a phial for the memory. The glistening silver strand slipped into its new glass home as Hermione gathered up another one, and slipped it in before plugging up the top. She handed it to Shacklebolt who had watched her without a single wonder passing through his mind.

"I take it these are to be used in the trial of Draco Malfoy," he asked her, carefully placing the two swirling memories into her pocket.

"Yes."

"Hermione!" Minerva said again; a little stronger than before. "Why?"

"Something tells me Hogwarts, the Ministry and I aren't the only things in need of fixing." She said quietly, as Dumbledore smiled kindly down at her from his portrait.

"I'll submit this, you may have to speak however," he warned her.

"Not a problem," she lied, feeling the sudden terror well up in her chest, and turned to leave. Thoughts of Draco Malfoy, Hogwarts, and how dreadfully tired she was swirling about in her mind. She smiled at both Kingsley and Minerva before the door closed behind her.


	2. Memory and Might

The morning cracked in a sudden burst of light through the window, throwing golden streams of light with no avail over Hermione's face. Her scarlet sheets crumpled with her movement as her hand slid underneath her pillow and around her wand. The next moment she was sitting up, panting, brown eyes wide and searching; wand aimed at the door. She blinked several times, before groaning, and slipping back into the headboard of her long lost Gryffindor bed. It was like an old friend to her, warm, inviting, and soft. There was something odd and unnatural to it now. The year spent in a tent on the run had made her body used to hard surfaces and pain. The welcoming warmth of the feathers in her blanket made her slightly suspicious to her whereabouts until her brain caught up with her.

Hogwarts.

Home.

She smiled, a tear slipping down her face; she reached up to wipe it away, turning to look out the window. The sun was still rising, as she hadn't thought to pull the curtains closed the night before, exhaustion running wild through her, it was no wonder she was rising so early now. A clock on her bedside table told her the time was five thirty am, and she snorted at the knowledge. Her wand so safe in her grasp was flicked briefly, the sunlight locked out. Her head hit the pillow one more time, and sleep took her quickly.

A few hours later, she awoke naturally. The rumble in her stomach had become something strong, impossible to ignore any longer. Throwing back the covers, she slid herself out of bed, taking note that it was just after eleven. She pulled her hair up into a messy bun above her head, not wanting to do anything with it until she'd had a deep soak in a bath tub, and then a shower. Then another bath. Most likely she'd have another shower after that. There was too much dirt to scrub off and out of her being, bathing in ponds, rivers and the odd scourigify; did little to help how clean one actually was. Not to mention being unable to properly clean clothes for a year. She shuddered slightly at the thought. She'd have to empty out her bag and see what was intact, what needed to be fixed but most of all, what needed to be thrown away and replaced. There were some clothes she would not want to wear ever again in that bag.

Slipping on a dressing gown after the thought about her clothes, Hermione sauntered down the stairs to the common room that was, blessedly, still in one piece. It looked undisturbed from the days before, as though there hadn't been a war fought just the other side of the wall. Newspapers lay on the tables, with pictures and half played chess sets. Sweets were scattered across the chairs and floor, whilst blankets were draped over the arm rests or the chairs backs. It was though comfort had been sought out by all, at every available opportunity. The common room looked lived in, more so than usual, pillows that usually resided in the dormitories were found nestled into every available nook and cranny, and now she really looked at the layout of the room, the placement of the furniture saddened her. All the chairs had their backs to the portrait hole, a bookcase had switched its position from by a window to right next to the entrance, it was oddly empty, nothing placed upon it, but the tell-tale scratches on one side of it told Hermione all she needed to know. The layout was a defensive one, the high backed chairs allowing for cover, whilst wands could be aimed over the top. The bookcase a quick diversion to bar people from entering as fast as they could, the tables in positions that could be easily flipped to provide another quick bit of defence from either the portrait hole, or to cover the retreat to the dormitories. As she looked towards the stairs she'd just come down, she noticed a broomstick, Hermione sighed. Of course there would be brooms. When worst came to worst, escape from the tower via the windows with a broom would be the only logical action. Her chest rose and fell as she breathed in deeply to steady herself, a mixture of pride and despair welling up in the depths of her being. This was Gryffindor bravery at its finest, but the despair lingered, she doubted any of the other houses had had to do this. Slytherin; least of all.

A footstep on the top of the stairs from the opposite dorm made her jump, and once more, her wand was in her hand; aimed and ready at whomever it was, logic lost. A shock of ebony hair stumbled into view, followed by a lanky body that was mottled in bruises, cuts, and one very obvious scar.

"Hermione," He said, grinning deliriously at her before walking down to meet her.

"Harry," She grinned, putting her wand away. His embrace swallowed her up before she could do anything else, his guttural, joyful laughter bursting from him was infectious, and she was helpless to do anything else but join in. They laughed as they held each other, delight fluttering like butterflies about the room as the released one another.

"I'm starving, was going to get something to eat, you gunna join me?"

"It's the exact same reason I'm up Harry, I think the kitchens should be free so we can make ourselves something, if they're in one piece of course..." she trailed off, lost in thought as Harry led her to the portrait hole. The walk went quietly between them, both thinking about the day before, the state of Hogwarts, and the future that was to come.

"So…you and Ron..." Harry broke the amicable silence, flicking Hermione a sidelong glance as the corners of his mouth flicked upwards. Hermione sighed, she'd been expecting this.

"No actually...I mean; I know everyone was expecting it, but...no."

"No?" Harry exclaimed, clearly surprised, "but you two would be great together!"

"Harry, really, think about it. Ron and I good together? Tell me a common interest we both share, something we can bond over. Does he really intellectually stimulate me? Is he as driven as I am? God knows I love Ron Harry, but...not the way everyone expects me to. He's not quite a brother like you are to me, but he's still dreadfully important. And after everything...after the war...I can't risk losing another friend after we get together and then split over something stupid a few years down the line. Think about how much we'd lose if something went wrong. I'd lose the Weasley family, because we all know they stick together. I'd lose my Wizarding family. I'd make the friendship between you and I awkward if Ron and I were together and broke up...it's too much of a risk, just for people's expectations. Ron is too important to me, and he needs to be with someone who loves him for who he is. Don't get me wrong Harry; I love you both in very different ways, but him and me together? I can't. We can't. I know this bit sounds the worst to say, but it has to be said; I know there was dark magic involved but after he left us...how do I know he won't do it again? I know there was magic, I know, but...it makes you wonder..."

Harry had been watching her closely the entirety of her little tirade, and had nodded along to himself. He had found himself agreeing to most of her points, but his eyes narrowed as she brought up the torment of the locket.

"You can't blame Ron for the locket." Harry said sternly, and Hermione bit back a sigh.

"I know, but…we all wore it Harry. How did he fall when we didn't? Why did it get to him more?"

"He thought you and I were together, and he didn't want that, so it ate him up." Harry stated his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "So did you end it between you?"

"No, because there wasn't anything to break off. We haven't even spoken since everything stopped, since we kissed. We weren't together, aren't together, and won't be together. I really prefer us as friends. We'll be better off as friends and nothing else." Hermione smiled thinking about the outcome, although confusion danced at the back of her mind about Ron and his affections. Her own had been clear, Harry was like a brother and was still head over heels about Ginny, and was off limits for those reasons. When death dwelled about every corner it was all too easy to seek some form of love where you wouldn't usually. Ron was available, and Harry wasn't. It was illogical the attraction, but had Ron thought and wanted more when they were on the run? Was Ron just biding his time and waiting to start up the relationship properly when everything was settled now they'd won? Whatever the cause, she was happy how it was in the present moment.

"As long as you're both happy," Harry said gruffly, nodding his assent to their predicament. The silence lingered between them once more, the welcome familiarity between the pair a comforting presence as they walked through a battle ground that never should have been where it was.

"It's going to be weird coming back to Hogwarts without you and Ron," Hermione eventually spoke, tearing her brown eyed gaze away from the gaps in the walls where portraits had been removed.

"I'll be better off in the Ministry," He replied, a firm set expression over his features.

"Why?"

"Think about it, think about the war we've just had, why it was started, and think about the Ministry we had to suffer through it. I can't just sit here and get N.E. while a whole new Ministry is being built right now. I need to do something, I need to be there to make press conferences look bad or great, or to say something here or there. I can't do a year of school then be ignored when I enter an established Ministry a year later. We can't handle another corrupt Ministry. We can't have people running the Wizarding World in Britain who still think Muggleborns are scum and that Dark Wizards don't exist just because some teenage boy says it." Harry's hands had formed fists, and his gaze was blazing, "As much as I hate to say it Hermione, I'm Harry Potter. I'm not going to get out of this war with no press invasion, no curiosity as to what I'm doing. If I'm at school again...what are people going to think? They won't listen to a schoolboy, but a man who works in the Auror department in the Ministry..."

"I understand," she nodded, remembering Scrimgeours' visit to Harry to determine 'whose man' Harry was, the incompetence of Fudge, and the hope Shacklebolt seemed to drip with every word he spoke, she hoped that he would be the next Minister more so than most. "You're better off in the Ministry, making those changes whereas I'm probably better off here."

"Why?" Harry asked her, genuine curiosity sparking in his eyes.

"I'm not…ready for a Ministry job. I know Hogwarts isn't completely free of scrutiny, it'll probably be worse now in all honesty, but it just feels safe here. I can't throw myself into anything challenging for ages. I just need something normal before I feel like I can actually contribute. What is more normal than…school?" She explained, as their footsteps crunched and echoed through the halls, the portraits tittering with excitement as they passed.

"I think you're forgetting something." Harry said with a slight hint of mirth tinting his sidelong gaze he threw at her.

"Oh and N.E.W.T's," she sighed, exasperated, as Harry's laughter bellowed down the corridors. She grinned at him, revelling in the easiness of being with Harry and the ability to laugh once more. Soon his laughter quieted, and his expression took on a sober tone.

"It's going to be hard work from here on out again Hermione," he sighed, and Hermione nodded.

"It will, but we're going to do it for the better. We can't risk the old prejudices lingering, and risking a new war. Not again." Old habits ran strong, and before they knew it, they were standing at the entrance of the Great Hall, and not at the portrait that held a particularly ticklish pear. Thankfully, the powerful smell of bacon and coffee wafted through the doors, and relief was mirrored on both of their faces. They entered, to find an almost familiar sight. The bodies and injured had been completely taken, but instead of the five standard tables, one for each house and the head table for the teachers, just one lone table remained, the teachers table. A few people were sitting, happily eating and talking quietly to one another, Minerva McGonagall sat tellingly in the heads chair, whilst Kingsley Shacklebolt at her right. A pair of blooms of red hair was next to Kingsley, whilst a blonde head was as far away from them as they could possibly be.

"I forgot you said Malfoy was still here under house-arrest." Harry seemed to speak her thoughts aloud, but a ponderous expression was crafting itself over his features.

"He doesn't look...well," Hermione considered, taking in the way he stared at the ceiling with an absent gleam to his eyes, an empty goblet casually hanging in his hand. Harry grunted, as if he'd already spared Malfoy more thought than what was right for him to do that day, and settled himself in next to Ginny, smiling at her brightly. Hermione sat herself opposite Ron, eyeing up a plate of croissants with a famished rumble of her stomach.

"You'll never guess what." Ron greeted Hermione, and she noted the pale tell-tale signs of shock in Ron's skin, the wide dazed glimmer in his eyes, and the way he didn't really know how to compose himself.

"What?" She asked, staring at him suspiciously, her recent conversation with Harry still bright in her mind.

"We're getting a ministry pay out." Ron said, as if he still couldn't quite believe it himself. "Fifty thousand galleons...each. Mum, Dad, Ginny...they're all getting ten thousand. All because we were a member of the Order and spent time planning to defeat Voldemort. I think Percy isn't getting anything because of his abandonment, same with Charlie, he wasn't really ever in the country, but Bill, Fleur..." the unspoken name hung in the air, and Ron swallowed, taking another deep draught of pumpkin juice. "Hermione, I'm rich. My family...we're rich. You're rich! Harry..." He waved his hand away to dismiss Harry's wealth, a wealth he'd barely touched. "I'm going to be ok Hermione. I've got a great job, money for the first time in my life, and no bloody Voldemort to ruin things." He laughed, and reached for another bread roll to stuff with the various fillings decorating the table. Hermione had been loading her plate and listening in shock. She hadn't expected anything from anyone for doing what she'd done. She'd only followed Harry because he was Harry, stupid and noble for expecting to do everything alone. A massive monetary pay out had been something she'd never had expected in her wildest dreams.

"Miss Granger!" A sharp, concerned voice snapped into her ears. She jumped, and turned to face a worried looking McGonagall, "have you heard anything I just said?" Hermione blushed and shook her head no, and earned herself the very rare pleasure of McGonagall's chuckle.

"I was just saying Miss Granger that I have been appointed the Headmistress of Hogwarts, and was offering you the Head Girl position should you still wish to return for the new school year." A kind smile was over Minerva, and Hermione gasped, gaping open mouthed at her mentor.

"Congratulations!" she managed to say first, "are...are you sure?"

"Who better Miss Granger?" Hermione blushed at the almost instantaneous voicing of McGonagall's approval of her, and she smiled happily.

"Then yes, I'd love to be Head Girl." She accepted, to McGonagall's proud nod of her head. "I have to warn you that you will now be expected to help in the rebuilding of Hogwarts, we have unfortunately realised we don't know enough about the school to rebuild it immediately." Minerva sighed, as Shacklebolt flicked McGonagall a sympathetic glance before delving back into the discussion he was having with Harry and Ron. Hermione found herself sitting up straight again, and feeling like she had a deeper purpose once more. A sense of normality at the promise of books, learning and research that wasn't about killing a corrupted man filled her with joy. She made a mental note to write to Flourish and Blotts asking them for all the books they had for sale on the building of magical buildings and Hogwarts as soon as she could.

"Have they elected a new Minister?" Hermione suddenly asked nobody in particular whilst she poured herself a glass of orange juice, the feeling of joy still happy and settled at the base of her spine.

"Yeah, it was unanimous apparently, and really quick, the Ministry must be in a bad shape to get a new Minister this quick. Thicknesse only handed in his resignation yesterday; after everything finished. Said he couldn't be a minister when he wasn't voted in and the whole Death Eater trial…" Ginny seemed to ramble I response, almost more focused on heaping her plate with bacon than anything else. Hermione half smiled at the Weasley trait, impatience blossoming on her insides.

"So…who is it?" Hermione asked Ginny eventually, holding back a snort of laughter as Ginny's brown eyes widened in surprise and realisation.

"Oh! I'm so sorry! I'm just so distracted today," Ginny apologised, gesturing her hand in the direction of Kingsley, "It's Shacklebolt, who better than the fair head of the Auror department that actually gets stuff done?" She deadpanned, and Hermione saw the truth in her words as she looked at Shacklebolt who still seemed to be talking to her boys in urgent clipped tones. Ginny caught her eyes again, and smiled, before taking another bite of sausage.

"Oh yeah, and that reminds me, we have a new defence teacher, Dawlish. Apparently he sent an owl to Kingsley last night saying no more field work, put him on a desk. So he was sent to Hogwarts instead." Ginny told Hermione, topping up both their drinks.

"You know, that's not that bad actually, of all the people to have. At least he's been an auror, and under Shacklebolt we should have Ministry permission for practical lessons." Hermione said to Ginny's guffaw of glee. The pair ate in amicable silence; both savouring the time in which they could simply relax and eat. The friends seemed to have an unspoken agreement about all that lingered over their heads, the upcoming funerals, the work that would have to be done to rebuild the school in earnest, and the wounded physical and mental states of them both. Almost as if Ginny had read her mind she broke their quiet conversation break.

"I need to go shopping, I have money now."

"I'll come, I have nothing that isn't beyond repair, covered in stains, or stinking beyond all polite levels of odour." Hermione replied in a business like fashion as Ginny wrinkled her nose.

"There are polite levels of odour?" Hermione rolled her eyes at Ginny as the red head dissolved into a cheeky grin. "I'll get Harry and Ron to come too, when was the last time you saw Harry in clothes that actually fit him?" Ginny dropped her fork as her mind wandered to times of the past, and tried in vain to think of times he was in clothes that were actually his size. A blush crept over her cheeks, and she turned her eyes to Hermione with a devilish grin.

"His Quidditch uniform." She said, a hint of triumph and lust burning behind her brown eyed gaze. Hermione just sighed and rolled her eyes once more, a smile creeping onto the corners of her mouth.

The men of the table, save the brooding Malfoy, had quieted their conversation and seemed to be waiting for a time to speak to Hermione, only Ginny spoke first.

"Harry," Began Ginny, "Mum wants to know when you'll be back at the Burrow and George wants to know if you can get him a muggle canbon or something like that. Don't tell him how is what Dad wants you to say. Ron, you're supposed to hurry up with your business here, and help Mum with planning Fred's..." she swallowed, and a tear slipped down her cheek from out of no-where, whilst Ron paled a little.

"Canbon?" Harry asked, tipping his head to the side in his befuddlement.

"Yeah, apparently it makes a really loud bang, and a ball will blast out of it or something. I'm not sure." Ginny offered, vividly animating her speech with her hands. Harry's jaw dropped as he realised what she was on about.

"I can't get you one of those! They're a weapon!"

"A weapon?"

"Yeah!"

"What does George want a Muggle weapon for then?" Ginny looked confused as both Harry and Hermione looked alarmed, perhaps George wasn't taking his twins passing in a sane manner.

"You best find out," interceded Ron, a dark look upon his face.

"I'll keep an eye on it," Shacklebolt agreed, a serious tone as he turned to face Hermione, his expression grim. It was only then that she noticed both Harry and Ron's face were almost mirrors of Shacklebolt's. Hermione felt the blood drain from her cheeks as she looked at them.

"I'm afraid there is something I cannot get you out of, no matter how much you may beg and plead. I also think that this may be the only solution to a problem that could get wildly out of hand. I'm to hold a press conference for you three, so that the press can get all their questions out the way. It'll mean you won't have to keep repeating yourselves. I don't think a statement from each of you will suffice. People…people want answers, and it's either you give them or the owls will come. We all know there is nothing you can do to escape an owl." Shacklebolt said his eyes boring into Hermione's as both Harry and Ron shifted uncomfortably. It was obvious they'd been desperately arguing about having to do the press conference.

"So what are we supposed to say about the Horcruxes?" How are we supposed to explain why we were on the run?" She shot back, the fear she felt starting to bubble under her skin. Something seemed to have intrigued Malfoy about the situation, as his gaze seemed to burn on the back of her neck; Ron's shoulders slumping in the corner of her vision. Clearly they'd been hoping she'd say something Kinglsey didn't have an answer for.

"You are a muggle-born, and a friend of Harry Potter, would it really have made sense for you to go back to Hogwarts, straight into the hands of the Death Eaters, and I do believe the whole idea of loyalty to friends will buy over more people than you expect."

Hermione swallowed, realising that Shacklebolt had obviously thought the entire thing through, and he was unwilling to bend on the subject. He seemed to have realised he'd won the battle the moment Hermione failed to come up with a reply in time. Shacklebolt rose, as the looks of defeat on their faces came into fruition.

"I shall send you an owl as to when it is, and announce it to the press. I expect you to attend; this is for your own benefit after all, not mine." He finished, and strode on the hall as Ron blustered a sort of response, and Harry groaned, running his hands through his unruly black hair in despair.

"That's going to be a nightmare. Sitting in a room full of people wanting to know about my life with no option but to endure it." Harry groaned, and Ginny laughed at his grief.

"Well, you'll just have to come shopping with Hermione and I to forget about it then won't you." Ginny said briskly, and Harry flicked his emerald gaze over her, realising it was a battle he wouldn't win if he fought.

"Muggle shopping, I'm not dealing with the Wizarding World yet." He sighed, and a drop of dread sunk into Hermione's throat, pooling in her stomach, an acid tang flooding her veins. She'd been kidding herself thinking that everything was easy. She'd been hiding at Hogwarts, with invitations to the Burrow. She was safe from prying eyes, and people wanting to know why she'd gone on the run with Harry. Thoughts of her fourth year burst to life, and she wrung her hands with the memory of hate mail that had sent her to the hospital wing. Suddenly, the idea of a bath seemed all the more pleasant.

"Tomorrow then, we all go shopping, I have stuff I need to do today, like empty out my bag and wash myself." She said, making to leave the table. The boys nodded, and Ron looked confused, a rasher of bacon hanging in suspense between his plate and mouth.

"Why do I have to come?" he asked indignantly, "Harry I get, I mean, when his clothes ever fit, but me?"

"Oh Ron, like all your hand me downs fit you perfectly," Ginny said before Hermione managed to squeeze a word in, "Besides, wouldn't you want some nice, relaxing time with Hermione?" She finished an alluring gleam to her words. Ron flushed red, his cornflower blue eyes looking her over in a way Hermione wasn't quite comfortable. Her face twisted slightly as she looked to Ginny, who didn't seem to realise what she'd said.

"Yes, well, anyway, I'm off to have a bath." Hermione said briskly, stepping over the bench and waving to them all, as McGonagall spoke up for the first time in a while.

"Go to the prefects bathroom on the sixth floor Miss Granger, Hagrid managed to get the Acromantulas out of that one, and compared to the rest of the castle, that one is the cleanest. I think the house-elves plan to scrub it down later however, just to be sure." Hermione smiled at her Headmistress, ignoring the comment about the house-elves and sauntered out the room. Her muscles looking forward to a long soak.


	3. Realisations and Reactions

"Be honest, does it suit me?" Ginny asked, eyeing a strand of dark blonde hair that she'd pulled between her fingers. She was now the proud owner of a long blonde mane, and dark blue eyes. Hermione had changed all of their appearances, making them as different as possible, she'd also gone blonde, only lighter and much more reminiscent of Malfoy than she'd expected. Her hair was now as straight as Ginny's, and her eyes the same colour, hoping to pass themselves off as sisters and not friends. Ron was now sporting light brown hair, with brown eyes, whereas Harry had been given a glamour charm for his scar, his eyes were blue and his hair brown. His glasses transfigured into a different style.

"Sort of Ginny; sort of." Ron attempted to console his worried looking sister, and earned himself a vicious glare. Sensing the possible start of a sibling war, Harry had bundled them into the fireplace of the Burrow, yelling "The Leaky Cauldron" with such volume they winced. Moments later, they stumbled into the well-known London pub to the disgruntled murmurs and comments of its clientele. Not one of them gave the four a look of recognition, and Hermione released a breath she wasn't aware she'd been holding, she began to untangle her limbs from the others, impressed with the way they'd managed to tie knots with each other during the journey and clambered to her feet.

"Right, let's go then." She said briskly, offering a hand to help Ginny up who seemed to be struggling against her squirming brother. When all were on their feet, they left to the Muggle part of London, instantly swallowed by the throng of the crowds, no one giving any of them a second glance. Harry had already grabbed Ron, and was pulling him into the first shop he'd seen. Ginny slipped her arm through Hermione's, and tugged on it hoping she'd follow.

"What's happened between you and my brother?" Ginny asked, steering Hermione into the women's section of the shop, her unfamiliar eyes flicking over to the less distinctive heads of her brother and boyfriend.

"I don't really know Gin," Hermione said, flicking through a rack full of shirts, checking them for her size as Ginny copied. "I don't think anything has really changed in all honesty, we're still friends. We just happened to have kissed."

"You don't think anything has changed, but he looks at you as if you were a puppy, and he's a child desperate for one." Ginny said disbelieving, her arm becoming weighed down with different coloured tops.

"I hadn't noticed; in all honesty, I mean…I love Ron, I do, but a relationship with him…" she trailed off, selecting her clothes from the rail and turning to the next one with an interested eye.

"Don't worry; Harry told me, and I understand. I don't prefer it, it would be wonderful to have you in the family by name one day, but you'll always be a sister of mine, and your happiness is number one." Ginny said comfortingly, as she began to pilfer another rail full of clothes, casually discarding things that weren't to her liking. "I just wish I knew what was up with Harry," she sighed, turning her gaze to the men's section again, checking the two boys hadn't abandoned them.

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked slightly sharply, the concern pouring out of her like the rain in summer.

"He's…distant, with me. I mean. I don't expect him to be the same after the war, but he's barely looked at me twice in the way he said he would. He's told me he loves me, we're together, but…why doesn't it feel that way? We're not at war anymore. We're safe, people would love to know and see us together, but he keeps his distance. It's infuriating because he won't tell me why." She explained, as she picked up a leather jacket, inspecting it absently.

"I've not noticed any of that, but I have seen him look at you the way you say Ron looks at me. Perhaps…perhaps he just needs time to adjust, I can ask him if you like." Hermione offered as she shifted the load of clothes she'd picked up in her arms, heading towards the till to pay.

"No…no, you're most likely right. Chances are this will all be something stupid and insignificant." Ginny said partially to herself as she followed Hermione, throwing her a grateful glance as the older girl took Ginny's purchases from her.

"Thanks, I don't get muggle money; I'll give you what I owe outside." She whispered, gesturing to the boys to come over and pay.

They'd visited several more shops chatting in a care-free manner that reminded Hermione of why she loved the girl so much before Harry found his chance to talk to her. They'd entered a shop that specialised in jeans, and as they'd spread out, finding their own sizes Harry had found himself by Hermione's side.

"I got an owl this morning, from the Ministry. I have to attend the Malfoy trial." He muttered to her, as he looked at the labels on the women's jeans. Hermione gasped, turning to look at him wide eyed.

"So do I." She hissed, "I gave a couple of memories to Shacklebolt."

"I have to speak," Harry told her, dread in his eyes," apparently what I submitted isn't clear enough. They want me to talk it through." Disgust laced his voice; it was clear that it was a thinly veiled attempt by the Ministry to discover more about what had actually happened during the past year.

"Say what you absolutely have too. You said it the other day; you're Harry Potter you can say as much or as little as you want, and with Shacklebolt as Minister, it should be a case of the ball is in your court."

"I don't know if I should have submitted the evidence Hermione." Harry admitted to her, looking ashamed of himself, "I don't know if I did the right thing."

"How are you speaking as? His defence or?"

"Defence, I didn't want him to go to Azkaban. The moment the war ended I went to Shacklebolt; told him everything, and gave him my memories. I wanted Malfoy to have a new beginning, like I was going to get, but now I think about it I don't know why. Malfoy let the Death Eaters into the castle a-"

"Oh; not this again!" Hermione spat; surprising both her and Harry. "Tell me what happened next! You found out he was being forced to do something he didn't want to do. You were obsessed with him that year. You saw how he behaved, sure he did it, but you even said he would have been killed if what happened didn't happen! He couldn't kill Dumbledore!"

"So why was he happy to be in the Room of Requirement after he was spotted looking really rather uncomfortable at his Manor? He may not have turned us in but he was still happy to join in!" Harry retorted to her outburst just as quickly. Hermione bit her lip, unsure herself, had she done the right thing too? Then the words they'd said the morning after the battle rung in her mind.

"I don't know Harry, but we both did the right thing. Think about it, you wanted him to have a new beginning, maybe he'll get one. We both submitted evidence where he wasn't comfortable to do the really horrendous shit in the war, he's just a bully, and does what he does best. Bully. Maybe having both of us speak in his defence will humiliate him. He needed to be saved from a lifetime in Azkaban by the golden trio." Hermione tried to persuade, almost herself as much as the boy beside her, mulling the words Harry had said about the Room of Requirement about in her mind.

"I guess you're right. Everybody deserves a second chance." Harry begrudged her, rubbing his chin in a thoughtful manner. "Ron didn't submit anything, and he isn't going to. He hopes Malfoy rots."

Irritation burst into life in the pit of Hermione's stomach, and she rolled her eyes.

"Well he would wouldn't he?" She said quietly, checking to see that Ron wasn't about, "The Malfoy's are the people Ron just can't see past, he's not going to stop and think about what would happen should Malfoy be sent to Azkaban."

"What would happen?" Harry asked, curiosity ringing in his voice, his low tones filled with his thoughtfulness.

"Malfoy is one of the only Slytherins that are able to come back to Hogwarts," she began quietly, "If the new year goes ahead, and there are no Slytherin year eights, how is that going to look to all the first years? Slytherin may have a reputation for creating the most dark wizards, but we've just had a war. We need some eighth year Slytherins to return, we need them to at least be in the castle to start breaking people's prejudices. Yeah, I doubt Malfoy will change, he'll probably still bully as always, but he'll be there. Just seeing the guy walk about the castle will mean that he's clearly not as dreadful as his reputation _because he avoided Azkaban_. It pains me to say it, but Slytherin needs to be seen in a better light if we're to avoid another Wizarding War, having someone famous; and Malfoy is famous, simply for being a Malfoy, who fought on the other side in the war, walking about Hogwarts will do more good than bad. Even if it doesn't make sense to you right now." Hermione whispered to him, throwing pairs of jeans over her arm in slightly varying shades of black and blue. Harry appraised her carefully, his brows knitted together, but he nodded, his lips pulled together tight.

"I hate that you make sense sometimes." He grunted, as Hermione laughed lightly. He made to turn away from her as Ron called him, his face a picture of his old deep thinking manners. Hermione sighed, tugging his sleeve gently.

"Harry, tell Ron when he asks what we were talking about, that I told you to be more "together" with Ginny. She's legitimately concerned." She told him, watching Harry's face pale. He nodded, and left to go over to Ron, as Ginny took his place.

"I'm ready to go home," she laughed, as she displayed all her purchases for Hermione to see. Hermione grinned, and looked at her watch.

"We ought to start thinking about leaving actually, the shops will close soon." She agreed, "come help me in the changing room, I might need different sizes."

"Of course," Ginny said, making to follow Hermione.

Her trek back up to Gryffindor tower was slow as she trudged thoughtfully up to her dorm; she waved her wand over her features, her blonde tresses melting back into their usual wild chocolate state. Her eyes returned to their sparkling mahogany tones, as the bruises flowered back on to her skin. The walls of Hogwarts we're looking bare, portraits had been removed for cleaning and repairs, as had the many tapestries and suits of armour. The holes in the walls, or sheer lack of a wall in some cases was more pronounced than usual, the crunch of the stone dust making Hermione feel slightly guilty with every step. She walked gingerly past the transfiguration classroom as a hand shot out from the door, roughly tanking her inside the classroom.

The door slammed shut, and she reached for her wand, only to find it slapped roughly out of her hand, clattering on the floor several feet away. In retaliation she swung desperately at whoever had grabbed at her, and found herself restrained instantly.

"Stop being so bloody difficult Granger!" A familiar voice snarled at her, gripping her upper arms, and slamming her against the wall. The face of Draco Malfoy sneered at her; confusion and rage a blizzard in his winter eyes, his body unusually close against her, barring Hermione from an easier struggle.

"Malfoy." She acknowledged, setting her jaw in a furious return snarl.

"Why are you at my trial?" He demanded, roughly shoving her against the wall again, as if emphasising who was in control of the situation. She growled, irritated at the unnecessary confrontation, Hermione moved her feet as if to kick at the insides of his legs, only to find him apply light pressure with his knee on the inside of her thigh.

"I submitted evidence, some memories, not many, only two." She gasped, surprised at the sharp pains now coming from her leg. His face seemed to transform, the sharp edges of his face becoming lethal as his anger over took him, a deadly beauty over coming all else. His eyes glittered as the blizzard raged on. Fear blossomed in Hermione's blood, spreading with every quickened beat of her heart as he gripped her upper arms harder.

"I fucking knew you'd be on the side wanting to see me rot like my bloody father." He hissed at her and the fear that had created vines across her body grew thorns as her rage exploded.

"You stupid ferret! I'm your defence, you cock! Biggest mistake of my life that after this!" She spat at him, struggling against his body that still pinned her to the wall. He released her, stepping back as shock flooded him, his snow white skin paling further. Hermione pushed him roughly diving for her wand as he mouthed nothingness into the air, stumbling backwards onto a desk making no effort to catch himself. The swirling snows of emotions in his wintery eyes now blown out, as he looked at the door in confusion.

"Defence?" He asked her weakly, turning to look at her livid form now pointing her wand at him, fresh red marks on her arms.

"Defence." She affirmed, watching him warily, her murderous feeling still alive and well. She noted he had a fresh suit on, one that didn't seem to have seen the war at all, no stains that were almost impossible to get out and no evidence of blood, or a quick repair. He was pushing himself into a more comfortable position, shock still evident on her face and she sighed, slipping her wand back into her pocket as she realised he'd made no effort to get to his. He couldn't anyway, the trace still held too much sway in a court case, and what good would it do him to be hexing people.

"Why?" He breathed finally, after allowing himself to look her over several times, appraising her figure under the patchwork of bruises, cuts and ruined clothes. "Why are you defending me after all I've done?"

"Yeah, I'd love to know that too after this little show you decided to put on Malfoy." She snapped at him, placing her hands on her hips to stop herself from shaking with anger. Panic slipped over Draco's expression for the briefest of moments before he could control himself again. He seemed to consider himself a moment and closed his metallic silver eyes in defeat.

"You are…right of course," he agreed as Hermione realised that was as close as she was going to get to an apology. Her face contorted into shock and alarm as she figured out why he was evening daring to agree with her. It was her War Hero status. Her words in the courtroom in his defence were worth galleons made of platinum. He wasn't going to risk antagonising her further, but if she'd been on the other side, his attack wouldn't have mattered. He was screwed anyway, might as well go down feeling like he'd killed a part of her soul again.

"You need me," She spoke the words into the air as if to make the desperate situation of his real and unavoidable. He sneered at her, the anger snapping back to life.

"Go on then Granger, blackmail me, what do you want so you will keep me out of Azkaban." He snarled; humiliation rife in the glare he threw at her.

"You think I'm as low as to blackmail you?" she asked him disbelievingly, "I knew you thought I'm the lowest of the low anyway, but blackmail? You think I'm that awful?" Disappointment fell onto her figure, as her shoulders slumped, and she fell against the wall for support. Confusion sparked to life in Draco's pose and he leaned towards her curiously.

"Isn't…isn't that what's supposed to happen? You know I have need of you, and there is no way you'd give it to me willingly, so…what did you want?" He asked her, his voice steady and careful. He obviously hadn't been expecting her reaction. She laughed humourlessly, and turned her sad eyes to him, her molten brown gaze dripping with pity and sympathy.

"You fucking idiot." She told him, "You haven't had a real friend in your life have you?" She asked, not expecting an answer. Draco bristled slightly, still humiliated and confused.

"The memories were willingly given. You didn't ask for anything. No one asked me anything. I didn't even expect to have to turn up at your trial when I gave them. Now you assault me, and then expect blackmail when you learn the truth. I used to think you were so brainwashed there was no hope for you, but now I see you've never been around people who love you. People who love you without expecting anything of you or from you. People who will do things for you just because; not because they'll get something in return, willingly given or not. So I pity you Malfoy above anything else. You can however tell me one thing. What were you doing in the Room of Requirement with Crabbe and Goyle?" Her speech seemed to have a profound effect on Malfoy, who had listened to the entire thing wide eyed and almost cowering at her words. His expression had flickered between confusion, alarm and sadness the entire way through; his gaze locked onto the brunette who had been his bullying victim the entirety of the time they'd known each other. Her question juddered something inside of him and he flushed a peculiar shade of pink.

"I was keeping up appearances. My parents were here. My aunt was here. The Dark Lord was here, and I'm here running about with his fucking brand on my arm!" He hissed, shame and humiliation poisoning his tone, "You think I would have been able to just live had he known everything? Crabbe and Goyle may have believed everything that was said, and even enjoyed it, but I…"

"I get it." Hermione interrupted, making to leave as she threw him one last pitying glance. "I won't submit this as evidence." She swept out the door and briskly marched down the corridor immediately leading towards a staircase. A loud roar and a bang followed her, and she jumped spinning around to see Malfoy's lean figure with a desk held in his hands, the table part of it clearly slammed into the wall as it now sported a large crack. She stared at him in shock, only to see an emotion she knew all too well returned.

Pain.

He threw the desk down, running his hands through his hair, his anger shook him to the core, and his body began to tremble with uncontrolled rage. He'd show her. He'd chase her down and make her feel like hell for talking to him like that. He left the classroom, chasing after her as he heard an all too familiar voice.

"Hermione! I thought you'd be in the common room by now, not behind me! Oh well, doesn't matter, I came to talk to you anyway."

It was the Weasel. His voice was happy and cheery, but lecherous tones rang strong and clear to Malfoy. He froze on the stairs, carefully sidling himself into a spot behind a suit of armour, and shielded by the remains of part of a wall. This had turned out better than he'd expected. He crouched down, out of sight, but able to hear.

"Oh, I was going to sort out my bag, I don't think I can get your clothes right now-" Hermione was saying, and Malfoy's brow creased with amusement, the idea that Hermione was practically his mother carrying about his clothes tickled something inside him.

"No, it's not about that, Ginny said she'll take them for us, but it's about…us, you know as you're my girlfriend I-" Malfoy's eyebrows shot up in unrestrained surprise, he'd seen it coming, but part of him had always thought that Hermione wouldn't be so low as to fall for a man who belittled her, and had to be practically babied by her.

"What? I'm your what?" Hermione was spluttering, her discomfort was obvious, but the oblivious Weasley member battled on.

"Well obviously, I mean after we kissed, but I was just asking if you'd like to move into my room with me in the Burrow now that Harry is thinking of asking Ginny to live with him." Weasley blustered on, ignorant to Hermione's efforts to interrupt him.

"Ron, no." She said sternly, "I really don't think I'm your girlfriend at all. Your _friend_; yes. Your girlfriend; no. I'm also not ok with moving in with you into your room in the Burrow. I need space. I don't think it's ok to be making these assumptions about Harry and Ginny either, not when she was saying something different to me earlier!" She fled, her footsteps becoming distant as she went up another floor. The Weasel hadn't given up though, and gave chase for the briefest of moments, before swiftly turning on his heel, he strode towards Malfoy's hiding place, and Draco shrank back into the darkness, cursing Merlin for his lack of being able to use his wand, and stopped breathing as the red haired boy stomped past him. Ron's fists were clenched, and he was gritting his teeth. He hadn't taken the rejection well, and it was all Draco could do to swallow down a mocking laugh. He stayed put for several seconds, waiting for the footsteps to vanish altogether before revealing himself, his emotions in turmoil. He was still angry with Granger, but oddly proud of her for realising she could do better than the Weasley boy. He slipped down the stairs, pondering what he could do with the information, if anything, heading for the Slytherin common room.

Irritated from her encounter with Ron, and bizarrely Malfoy, Hermione shimmied out of her clothes. She quickly changed into a new set, relishing in the freshness of the fabric, the lack of rips; tears and unexplained stains a welcome sight. She sighed with pleasure before snatching up her sequined bag again, gazing at it with a mixture of respect and reverence. She then tipped the entire bag out onto her bed, the thunderous noise of books, clothes, vials of potions, food supplies and finally a portrait causing her to wince guiltily. Turning over the portrait of Phineus Nigellus, who was somehow still sleeping after the loud bangs and thuds, so that he couldn't see his location reminded Hermione of all the times spent on the run. A sigh escaped her lips once more, realising just how much she would have to do to sort her own belongings out after a war. A brief conversation with McGonagall had confirmed she was able to use her old Gryffindor dormitory as a sort of home whilst the ministry found her parents. Her childhood home had been sold due to the brand new 'Wilkins' needing the money to re-locate, and intruding on the Weasley's with all her possessions seemed just too much. Especially in the same room as Ron.

She withdrew her wand from her pocket, taking in a deep breath; preparing herself for the work that was to be done. With a couple of waves and a flick, all her books had piled themselves up on a bookshelf, her clothes had made their way into her wardrobe, and her old ones were now in a pile at her feet; mingling with Harry and Ron's. The stench made her stomach turn and her nose wrinkle in disgust. Amazement began to flitter to the forefront of her thoughts, and she wondered how they'd been able to stand the smell for a year. Cleanliness had been reduced to bathing in every patch of flowing water they'd discovered, but fresh water was a nightmare to come across, and scourigify; although wonderful, couldn't solve the real hygiene need. Another flick of her wand, and the pile of clothes was bound in a bag, the smell thankfully removed. She'd deal with it later.

She ended the charm on her bag, and then tucked it into a draw in her wardrobe, patting it fondly, delighted that its last job was to act as storage for her purchases instead of a suitcase for three on the run. Phineaus began to stir in his portrait, but before he could cause a commotion, Hermione summoned a house-elf.

"Winky, please do me a favour, please take this portrait to Harry for me. Oh, and the clothes. Here," she said in a rushed whisper to the startled looking elf, pressing the bundle of stinking clothes into her hands, "and tell him that they're his problem now." She smiled, as Winky grabbed up the portrait vanishing with the distinctive crack of a house-elf. Her brown eyes gazed at the order to her room, as a knock came to the door. She jumped, confused, her fingers tightening about her wand.

"Hermione?" A questioning voice came, as the door opened ever so slightly.

"Oh, Ginny, come in, come in," she relaxed, waving the red-head in. Ginny didn't need telling twice, and skipped into the room her features the same as they'd always been.

"Was going to take our clothes from you, I really need to see what I've bought, and what I can now throw out." She laughed, realising that Hermione had been doing the same. Hermione grinned at Ginny and gestured to the piled up bags of shopping she'd dismissed to behind the door were.

"There, that'll be your clothes and the boys; could you do me a favour?" She questioned, as she picked up Bill's tent, turning to Ginny questioningly.

"You want me to return Bill's tent for you?"

Hermione nodded a coy smile on her lips as Ginny laughed.

"Oh sure, it's not like I'm taking anything back anyway," Ginny answered sarcastically, holding up her hands full of the bags they'd all bought earlier that day. Hermione smiled, tucking the tent under her friends arm. "I'll see you later," Ginny smiled, taking her leave with a rather awkward waddle. The door clicked shut, and Hermione's eyes fell on the rather over used dittany. She closed her eyes, remembering the bath she'd had the day before. The water had forced her to face many things she didn't want to, the state of her physical being for one. Living off whatever they could scavenge for meals had not done her physique wonders. The sight of her ribs had made her feel sick, and she missed the healthy glow she'd given off before. Cuts mottled almost every inch of her, as well as several burns from the run in with the dragon. Thankfully they could have been worse, but the unexpected plunge into the water had helped quell the fire somewhat. The magical gash on her arm had hurt her to the very core to touch, but it was still caked in mud, grit and dust from the days before. She'd rubbed it till it had bled, and vomited from the pain. Hermione's vanity, whilst little, was still present, and she'd hoped her usually wild mane of hair had been looking worse for wear due to living rough, but as she'd submerged herself into the abnormally hot water, she'd discovered she was in need of a haircut. The knots were almost impossible to get out, and it's formally healthy shine had vanished. Along with the dark circles under her eyes, Hermione was a wreck. An idea to go to Pomfrey had flickered to life in the back of her mind, but shame had stopped her. She was Hermione Granger, a Heroine of the second Wizarding War. Something about getting medical help for herself seemed like admitting she wasn't really a heroine, even though the idea of that title made her feel nauseous. She'd done what she'd hoped anyone would do when they learnt their best friend was the marked nemesis of a Dark Wizard. Help. She'd gone to Madam Pomfrey anyway, only to discover that she was clean out of potions that would help her. Burn paste had been completely depleted, vitamix had been guzzled, and bandages were gone. Even Skele-grow. Hermione had shuddered at the thought, remembering the way Harry had described it. A small talk with Pomfrey had revealed that she'd had to start using her limited knowledge of Muggle healing to deal with the amount of injuries that needed more attention than a charm or two. Hermione had accepted that the only way she could help herself, was to do it herself. Selfishly, she began brewing healing potions after discovering that the more complex ones we're being made first. She'd taken several cauldrons from the potions classroom, and stuffed them full of ingredients for various health potions. Then she'd pilfered the potions masters store cupboard, brazenly walking up to Gryffindor tower, levitating her stolen goods in front of her. She hadn't noticed the shocked and curious gaze of Draco Malfoy as she'd strolled past the Great Hall. The dittany now on her bed would be added to one of those potions, and handed to Pomfrey upon their completion.

She'd sent a letter to George, asking him for a jar of his bruise paste, and thankfully the morning had brought her a couple of owls, one bearing a jar of paste that she'd smothered over herself almost instantly, and to her relief she was several bruises free after it had all sunk in; with a letter from George, asking if she knew how to get hold of a muggle cannon. She'd sighed, and had written a sharp reply thanking him for the jar and telling him she'd pay him the next time she saw him, but a cannon was not a toy, nor something easily handed out to Muggles. She gently advised him that a cannon probably wasn't what he was looking for, and that she'd do her very best to help him should he find what he was really looking for.

With a start, she realised that she'd nothing left to sort out. With that, she turned, and went to join the Weasley's and Harry at the Burrow, her mood turning slightly sour that there was nothing left for her to keep her mind busy save confronting a man who had harassed her earlier.


	4. Pity and Grief

The Slytherin common room had been almost transformed entirely from its old appearance. Many of the Death Eaters were and had been Slytherin; and in their time ruling over the school under Snape, they'd brought several of their home comforts to their old house gathering place. The room was now draped in sumptuous fabric that stank of old pureblood money. The chairs were upholstered in rich satins, forest green leathers, and real silver snakes now found themselves as legs for a few of the chairs. The wizarding chess sets now had marble and onyx squares, with pieces of enchanted quartz. Everything that could have been upgraded to what was 'more suitable for a pureblood' had been. The green haze that overpowered the lights the candles gave out remained oppressive, but somehow even colder than before, as though the poisonous ideals of those who had so often strolled into the common room had now deposited their venom into the very walls. The tapestries of famous Slytherins failed to entertain Draco in the way they had the first time he'd been in his houses common room; his disappointment with his father not being on the walls recorded in a letter he'd sent home, only to be told in a harsh reply that a 'Malfoy had a different kind of power, a useful power, that didn't require ridiculous feats to earn respect.' Draco hadn't fully understood what his father had meant at the time, until he'd begun complaining of things to his parents, and soon found those simple complaints vanishing.

Draco was laid out over one of the leather sofas, gazing at a tapestry that for some reason depicted a man on a hippogriff waving his wand at a giant. The sound of the water of the lake running as the creatures disturbed it was the only noise in the room other than the sound of his breathing. Moments ago, he'd been shouting and screaming again, throwing the intricately carved figurines from the chess sets against the stone walls; flinging the newspapers about, and smashing a stool to pieces without the use of his wand. The physical exertion had been surprisingly therapeutic, and he didn't mean to destroy so much, yet the satisfying tinkle of smashed glass, the ear splitting shatter of wood splintering and the rip of leather was doing much for his mental state. He'd torn up most of the overly decadent room that reminded him just a little too much of his manor, until he'd lost his balance and stumbled over the back of the sofa, it was how he had come to find himself panting and suddenly feeling rather drained. The couch was now unbearably comfortable, and he had no desire to move any part of him ever again. Unfortunately, his thoughts were more than happy with the decision to stop moving; the agonised screams of Hermione Granger now sliced through his consciousness like molten lava, scorching any other stream of thought that dared to pass through his mind.

He let out an angry grunt as he thought of Hermione, her face wide eyed and pale staring at him as his aunt pawed over her, repeating an unforgivable as if it were a compliment. Now she swanned about stealing potions materials for some unknown reason, and shoving her business where it didn't belong, like his trial for one. The thought of her attending his trial sent a strange thrill up his spine. Both Hermione and Harry were to be there as his defence, and Potter was required to speak. He bristled at the thought, two of the Golden Trio would be there to keep him out of Azkaban, and he faced a life sentence. If he went then he'd lose the entire Malfoy inheritance to the Ministry, centuries worth of investments, galleons and lands acquired gone from one stupid belief they had followed. His current status was still as the heir, but it seemed futile to believe that his father would escape Azkaban; his mother wouldn't inherit, but would become a ward of his instead. He'd have to keep her financially happy and provide her with a place to stay. He would have the power to kick her out of the Manor should he choose. Draco rolled over slightly, pressing his back to the sofa, and changing his gaze to the window hoping to see a glimpse of the Giant Squid, he inwardly debated what he'd actually do if he managed to escape Azkaban, and gain his inheritance. His mother would of course be well homed, and it wasn't like she needed the money; she had the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black to fall back on. She was of course, the lone surviving daughter that hadn't been blasted off the family tree. He sighed again, realising that this was all dependant on Narcissa Malfoy managing to be free of the Dementors of Azkaban also. Otherwise, his inheritance would double, and both families' inheritances would pass to him; or should his new home be in the middle of the sea, the ministry would become several million galleons richer. Money they would no doubt be using to redecorate again. A guttural snarl came from him unbidden; his thoughts had lingered on trials again, for just a little too long. He was due to attend his father's trial in a couple of hours; at least he would see how a Death Eater trail would be carried out, and see if he even stood a chance. He knew intrinsically that he did hold a better chance than his father did. His run in with Granger had proved it.

His hands moved up to his face, covering it from the outside world, as if there were people around to view the humiliation that had carved its way forward. He'd planned to intimidate her, make her wish she was sorry for ever being born, somehow, for throwing everything he ever had away by putting him into Azkaban. It had seemed like the only logical option, the childhood bully continuing to bully when she fought back in a way that would see him fall into insanity with the Dementors his only company. He hadn't anything to lose. He would be going to Azkaban, might as well make sure her last memories of him were filled with the hatred he felt for her, even if he couldn't actually muster up the real emotion for her, or use a wand. He'd never hated Granger; he'd been jealous, spiteful, and most certainly disliked her, but not hatred. He'd never had enough of a cause to hate her. Her revealing that she was due to be his defence had blown his pre-conceptions apart and shocked him to his very core, the fibres that made up his being ringing in surprise. A grudging amount of respect had nestled itself in the back of his mind, after everything that he'd done towards her she was still willing to see past that and help keep him out of a hell on earth. She was most certainly a better person than he was. Then she had said she pitied him, and said he obviously hadn't a friend who was a real friend; his brain racked his memories thinking of actions that proved he had people who loved him for 'him' as she had said and had come up null. Crabbe and Goyle had followed him because they were too thick to do otherwise, they were easy to push around and put Draco in the metaphorical place he'd been brought up to believe he belonged in; first. Theodore Nott and Blaise Zabini had been smarter, and not so easy to push around. They were easier to talk to about things with weight behind them than Crabbe and Goyle had been, but the ever present reminder that things revealed were bargaining chips and blackmail toys was all too clear. His flings with Pansy were vapid, and only because she were a good possible marriage prospect, a good looking woman from one of the sacred twenty eight families, rich, and not intelligent enough to ever cause much of an issue, but clever enough to not say anything that may cause one. No, he had no real friends. His parents love was obviously conditional and they were too appearance based for anything to really be displayed, no tender proud words had ever been said to him. Only reminders on how a Malfoy should act. It hadn't even occurred to Draco that there might have been another way of life that was out there. He'd believed fully that that was the only way social interactions were supposed to happen. With blackmail and distrust. It had been why the other houses were so awful, all their public displays of affection, the inability to properly get what they needed out of someone, so much public drama. It had, now Draco realised, gone hand in hand with the belief that pure-blooded was the best way to be. The behaviours of the other houses, that were so mixed blooded with the occasional pure-blooded scion appearing, that it had re-enforced everything his parents had raised him to believe, with such different behaviours on show, how could they have been wrong. Then Granger comes in, and says something so honestly it had nagged at him for the hours after the event. Surely, his way of life was the only way of life, how could there be others?

The wall to the school opened, and Draco shot up straight, flattening down the creases in his suits jacket.

"Mr Malfoy," McGonagall greeted, casting a stern eye over the wreck of her schools house common room.

"Professor," He returned, a slight nod of his head given to indicate his begrudging respect of the woman. She may be the Gryffindor house head, but her reputation for being fair was well documented.

"I see you have kept yourself occupied," she said, gesturing for him to leave with her, "The time of your fathers trial nears and it is best to be there early."

"I see." He replied, his voice flat as he made to leave the common room with her, away from the over bearing presence of the mistakes his acquaintances had made. He walked briskly into the exiting tunnel, missing the concerned features of his headmistress settle upon his back.

"Hermione," a warm voice said above her, "I've got one, I know you told me not too, but I was right about it and I've got one." The voice was excited, but oddly dulled, as though the life had been blasted right out of it.

"George," she groaned, rolling over and pulling her bed's blankets up over her head before his words could fully sink in. "Oh no." She said, sitting bolt upright and staring him straight in the face.

"Oh yes," he affirmed, a dull sparkle in his eye. "Harry is helping me set it up now in fact."

"George! It's a muggle weapon! I thought Harry knew better! Why have you even the need for one anyway?" She exclaimed, throwing the covers off her and standing up.

"For…Fred." He replied, almost unable to.

"What?"

"For…for his funeral."

"George…" Hermione began.

"No, hear me out Hermione, ages ago we heard about some Muggle, who was fired out of a cannon when he died. We thought that was well…pretty wicked, and decided when we died that was how we wanted to do at our own funeral."

"Please tell me you would be cremated first?" Hermione groaned after listening to George with a twisted expression on her face.

"What? Of course," George replied, wondering if Hermione was crazy for thinking such a thing. "Look, I only came here to tell you because Harry said he needs help. Mum also says we need to look respectable because Andromeda is coming over with Teddy too."

Hermione paled, finally pulling herself up into a sitting position, swallowing the sudden rather large lump in her throat that seemed to be doing everything possible to constrict her breathing.

"Hermione?" George asked carefully, peering at his brother's best friend through concerned, grief stricken eyes. Hermione's own brown gaze was rapidly filling up with unspent tears, her mouth parting slightly as if she were about to say something.

"I can't do this George," she whispered, closing her eyes and expelling the tears finally, "I was deluding myself since battle finished. Trying to keep myself busy, shopping, the castle, potions…I can't deal with this. I can't see Teddy." Hermione sobbed quietly; letting the tears spill little silver streams over her cheeks, her eyes now sparkling as she searched Georges' face for some kind of acknowledgement and understanding. To her relief, his expression matched hers, his own eyes tormented and grief written over the wry twist he gave his mouth.

"I can't do this without Fred." He gasped, and Hermione threw her arms around him, pulling the redhead onto the bed with her, cradled in her tearful embrace. Together they sobbed quietly; she rocked him like she would rock an infant, slow and gentle, their movements soothing the storms they'd been trying to block out. George's arms were wrapped tightly about her chest, she was held so close that her breath was long and deep, his hands entangled in the wildness of her hair, his head buried into her neck. She ran her own hands over his back, absently tracing patterns as she rocked them from side to side. Eventually, a sound at her door made her look up, only to meet the confused grimace of Ron.

"Mum says the both of you need to get downstairs. Andromeda's here." He managed to say, forcing George to let go of her as if she was toxic, and stood up immediately. Hermione nodded to Ron, and threw the blankets off her completely, swinging her legs as if to stand herself. Ron watched her for a moment, flicking his eyes between his brother and her a few times before his footsteps echoed down the stairs. George took her hand in his for a brief moment, squeezing it tight before letting it drop.

"Thank you," he whispered, wiping away a tear with the back of his hand, before following Ron down the stairs. "Andromeda!" he could be heard greeting, his voice abnormally loud and cheery. Hermione swallowed again, and changed into fresh clothes, breathing in the completely clean scent they failed to emit, a stark difference to all her clothes having a pungent tang to them before she'd thrown them all out. The action seemed to steady her mind and she walked downstairs her eyes falling onto Harry with a tiny child within his grasp. His green eyes were wide and staring, transfixed upon the minute fingers clasped about his little finger, his skin was whiter than white, the lightning bolt scar the only colour to his figure. Hearing Hermione on the stairs, he looked up, only to realise he wasn't alone. Ginny was to his right, whilst Andromeda, George and Molly were huddled together by the door, Ron was lounging on a chair, his face still a picture of confusion and anger; eyes continually flicking to the lone twin brother of his.

"It's my fault," Harry said eventually to the gathered crowd.

"What's your fault?" Andromeda asked eventually as it became evident no one was going to answer Harry's peculiar declaration.

"That Teddy is like me. No parents. I'm sorry."

"Harry James Potter!" Ginny shrieked, causing him to jump slightly, and Teddy to loose a wail that caused Molly to sigh and automatically take the babe from Harry's arms to calm him. "How stupid can you get?!" Ginny continued her anger crackling about her like fire.

"But he's all alone, like me."

A sharp resounding crack split Hermione's ear drums as the sudden silence that followed it dropped on them with the weight of several sphinxes.

"How dare you." Ginny hissed at Harry, a red mark on his cheek where she had hit him, abruptly she turned on her heal and fled through the house, doors slamming as she left, her rage still sparking in the room despite her absence. No one made to follow her, experience had taught them well to leave her to her mood until it died, lest be hit with a bat-bogey hex that was increasing with power each year she grew older.

"Harry…" Hermione said unsure, her insides churning with the shock at what he had just said.

"No, I get it." George stopped her, his eyes fixed on Harry and he nodded once, a genuine understanding shared between the look they gave each other.

"Well I'm fucking glad someone does, because what he just said was-"

"Ron!" Molly chided immediately, "I'm sure Harry didn't mean it that way."

"He didn't." George defended as Harry began to look ashamed.

"I really didn't Mrs Weasley." He spoke quietly, wringing his hands in front of him as he looked at the floor.

"He has a family Harry, he has his Grandmother at least, and he'll always have us; you his God-father, and Hermione. I've always had two daughters and seven sons, and now it's two daughters and eight sons, you can't choose who your family are but sometimes you're lucky enough to pick them." Mrs Weasley told him gently as Hermione started, her lower lip wobbling for the second time that day, and unable to contain it she cried openly. George nodded to her sympathetically, as Molly handed Andromeda back her grandchild, and went to embrace Hermione. Ron had started to openly scowl at his brother, a move not unnoticed by Hermione and the now extremely familiar emotion of confusion settled over her shoulders as she leant into Molly's hug.

"The war has been difficult on us all," Andromeda spoke quietly, rocking Teddy gently as his hair rocketed through Harry's black shade, to Hermione's brown, and the different red hues of the Weasleys before changing again to the grey tones of his Grandmothers. Teddy looked with uncomprehending eyes at the warm but grieved expression on his guardians face and wailed again. A silence save for Teddy's cries lingered upon the family, all accepting the truth of Andromeda's words before anyone could think to say anything else.

"He just meant that Teddy doesn't have blood parent's alive, not that he isn't part of this family, just that his blood relatives will always be somewhat a mystery to him." George said quietly, staring at Teddy with wide, sorrowful eyes. Harry nodded, the shame creeping back onto his cheeks once more.

Eventually, they settled into the living room in full, Molly having summoned a heaped tray of sandwiches for them all as Arthur arrived looking slightly harassed.

"Hello all," he greeted, leaning over his wife to pick up a beef sandwich, returning to vertical with a kiss for Molly's cheek. "It's been a nightmare at the ministry." He sighed, biting into the bread with a gusto Ron had clearly inherited.

"More so than usual?" Andromeda asked curiously, as Teddy fell into a slumber in her arms.

"Malfoy Trial," Arthur replied as a way of explanation, "I knew the Malfoys were awful people but…"

"But what?" Molly asked this time, as Arthur's disposition seemed to stop him from speaking; darkness had flittered over his being, mottled with the sweet tang of sadness, his hand clapped onto Molly's shoulders, his sandwich finished. His gaze seemed to linger on all gathered and he sighed, shaking his head.

"I'll explain what I can, as I'm only here for an hour, we're on lunch break; but it's bad." He started, walking around to sit next to his wife, as the gathered group seemed to unconsciously lean in to hear him better. Hermione walked around to sit herself next to Harry, her curiosity bubbling beneath her skin in a way she wasn't used to. "Shacklebolt wants the Death Eaters tried well and fully. Everything they may have done to break the law brought up for question. There are memories being shown that are years old. It's why I'm involved, I'm to speak about his involvement with Voldemort from years ago – the diary in particular, Ginny." He sighed, squeezing his wife's hand. "He makes you think that every time you have failed as a parent, you haven't." Arthur said bizarrely, his voice trailing off as his gaze seemed to fixate on a point on the floor.

"What do you mean by that?" Hermione found herself saying, as Harry gripped the chair he was sitting on tightly.

"His boy, Draco, he's there watching this. He's not allowed to speak due to his own trial but he has to come observe. I never knew how they raised him Molly…awful. He can't have known any better." He trailed off again, and Molly shook him gently, as Arthur seemed completely able to ignore the baited silence in the room, and the way everybody seemed to hang off his every word. "They used unforgivable curses on that boy, right from when he was little. They wouldn't let him learn about Muggles other than they were filthy creatures. Told him he was the same as royalty, that he should never interact with muggles because they were below him, told him muggle-borns were just as bad. Sure they spoiled him that child had more toys than any kid should have, but, seems like it was just a public front. No actual love for the boy. When the Malfoy boys own task was called into question, Lucius didn't care. He didn't care Molly. He didn't care that his own son was essentially being punished for his own failure."

"You need to explain that for me Mr Weasley." Harry's tight voice spoke into the shocked silence; he looked strained, angry and conflicted.

"His task to kill Dumbledore; Harry, was given to him by Voldemort hoping to punish Lucius for not getting the prophecy from you boys and girls. Voldemort knew that Draco would fail it, how could a sixteen year old kill a man as experienced and powerful as Dumbledore? Lucius didn't care that should Draco fail, he'd be killed by Voldemort." He explained to Harry gently, and at the end of those words, Harry got up and left the room following the actions of Ginny not even fifteen minutes earlier. Hermione sat shell shocked. Her words to Malfoy in the classroom he'd pulled her into started to thunder against the insides of her skull, slamming into the bone and causing her an instant headache. She'd hit the nail on the head telling him he'd never had a real friend. No one to ever really love him. Arthur was talking again, but the words washed over her like an ocean, she was too busy drowning to realise what he was saying. Eventually, the white noise of his voice stopped again, and she found herself able to focus on the conversation again.

"What about my sister?" Andromeda spoke, peering at Arthur warily, as if she'd dread what he'd have to say.

"Narcissa was never a death eater, she simply agreed with what they were going to do, but as she essentially homed Voldemort she will be on trial – and for child abuse; Shacklebolt decided." He told her softly, as Andromeda hung her head.

"Oh Cissy," she breathed, shame leeching into her cheeks as they flushed. "I suppose I should be happy. She was still my sister though, the silly girl." She spoke to herself more than anyone else, but Molly patted her knee fondly offering her a sympathetic look.

"Hermione, you will have to speak at Draco Malfoy's trial now, you will be questioned, there is too much…conflicting evidence." Arthur told her, taking her by surprise.

"I have to speak?" She squeaked, and shook slightly, distressed at the way she was suddenly so unable to control herself.

"I'm sorry." Arthur replied, confirming what he'd said once more. He looked at the clock and stood up steeling himself again. "I have to go back, have to see this done; I'll be back in time tonight." He said to his wife, as Molly's features began to wobble as her eyes began to flood with tears.

"Tonight?" Ron asked quietly as Arthur apparated out, turning to look at his now crying mother.

"We are burying Fred." She told him, and rushed upstairs, her cries still clear as her grief ruined her.

"That's today?" Ron asked obliviously, as George threw him a filthy scowl.

The hours rolled on, and soon all members of the family arrived, along with friends who had known Fred, or simply wished to show some support. Molly had decided to stay in the kitchen, her hands busy at all times as food began to leave the room in a steady stream. Guests were filling up the garden, and many were beginning to ask questions about the cannon that was taking pride of place. Ron and Ginny were fending the guests off with a simple 'ask George,' the moment they were approached by someone with an inquisitive expression. Harry had stayed away from Ginny the entire time, instead leaning against the Burrow's wall with Hermione as they watched their school friends arrive if they could. Harry's old Quidditch team were there, both Katie Bell and Alicia Spinnet looking distressed and tearful, as Angelina's strong figure kept them both up. George throwing glances at Angelina when he thought she wasn't looking. Oliver Wood was there too, his face a mask of a blank emotion, Lee Jordan had arrived his arms full of butterbeer. He'd handed one to George and slapped him on the back, before leaving to seemingly walk endless circles about the garden. The members of the D.A had been slowly arriving many with injuries that Hermione hadn't noticed at the time, Cho –her arm in a sling, and Ernie had a large bandage across his face. Hannah and Neville had arrived both splattered with pale bruises and were overheard thanking George for the bruise paste. There were no chairs set out, but no one seemed to mind. Eventually, Molly left the kitchen as the sun set, blooming its pinks and golds over the sky; the orange hues that seemed to linger a moment longer than the other shades, a love song to the lost Weasley. Bill and Charlie seemed to stare at the cannon with an anguished expression on each face as Fluer sang quietly to her infant daughter, the silver of her hair rippling in the rising moonlight. The sun finally vanished beneath the skyline, and Percy began to light candles, setting them up to float above their heads, bathing them all in soft tangerine glow, as the flowers seemed to be illuminated, and threw intricate shadows over the grounds. Andromeda gently passed Hermione Teddy, as she went to drape an arm over Molly's shoulders as Minerva McGonagall arrived.

"Miss Granger," She greeted, "Mr Potter." She nodded to the pair of them, black tartan robes swirling about her as she also went to comfort Molly who seemed to be inconsolable. Two final cracks broke through the chatter, as Shacklebolt and Arthur arrived.

"Sorry for holding you up Molly," Kingsley said, dipping his head as he apologised.

"No matter, no matter, let us…" she replied, waving her arms as tears streamed down her face, gesturing for people to gather each side of the cannon. "George," she said, handing over the ceremony to her son.

George cleared his throat, standing behind the cannon, he stared off to where it was aimed, and took a deep breath. His red hair fell into his eyes as his head fell, his gaze to the floor.

"I don't know what to say," he finally said quietly, his voice carried by the gentle night breeze, "You were my brother, best friend, business partner and now you're gone. I know we always agreed that when we died we'd go out like this so…" He tapped his wand to the base of the cannon, and it went off.

The explosion was beautiful. Streams of red, orange, yellow, purple, blues, greens and pinks flew out of the cannon as the famed Weasleys Whiz-bangs carved spirals and stars against the back drop of the night, silver dust shimmered in front of them, seeming to dance in the sky. The gathered crowd gasped, murmuring in surprise and approval.

"I think I know what to say George; your brother: he was brave." Shacklebolt said as he watched the firework display. His wand was raised, and all of a sudden his lynx patronus burst from its tip, running up into the fray of colour; jumping with glee.

"Intelligent, although you were both loathe to admit it," McGonagall added, as her tabby cat slipped forth and pounced onto Shacklebolts lynx.

"Kind." Hermione heard her own voice say, hypnotised by the beautiful and unexpected funeral George was holding for his twin. Her otter shook itself off, before swimming upwards and paddling around a blue stream of sparks.

"Loyal," Harry's voice joined from beside her, his stag effortlessly proud as it cantered towards the playing lynx and tabby.

Before long, the patronuses of those gathered swam about the night, shimmering different colours on their backs from the seemingly never ending pops of fireworks. Chos' swan played with Hermione's otter, whilst Ginny's horse galloped with Harry's stag. Ron's terrier nipped at the heels of McGonagalls cat, and chased Luna's hare. The kind words for Fred had stopped as the crowed watched the scene being played out for them. Just as the fireworks started to fade, Harry raised his wand, the lumos charm pulsating at its tip. He hung his head in remembrance, and soon others followed. Their lights lit up the garden as Percy blew the candles out, and the coloured streams faded. The patronuses were the last to shimmer out, Arthurs weasel chasing Hermione's otter until it fizzled out. It sat there, as the others faded, and finally vanished too.

The last patronus remaining was George's owl, who flew off into the night, and slowly, the wands went out.


	5. Press and Pain

"Ready?" Harry asked the pair of them, pale and wide eyed as they stood by the fireplace of the Burrow. The day of the press conference had dawned after a night of sleeplessness and fear. Hermione had tossed and turned the night away, drenched in a cold sweat, dreading the morning's first rays.

But they had come.

"No," Ron sulked, a deep set scowl over his freckled face. Harry flicked his eyes to Hermione, anxiously awaiting her answer, the pale pallor of his skin betraying his nerves.

"I'm not either Harry, sorry." Hermione replied eventually, the tremble to her knees becoming almost uncontrollable. The clock on the wall chimed suddenly, and Hermione sighed, the call to disapperate into the depths of the Ministry with no disguise had come.

"Remember to mention nothing about the Horcruxes." Harry said sternly, his mouth set in a determined line before a sharp crack told of his disappearance. Ron followed afterwards, his own expression stern and filled with dread. Hermione followed, remembering the spot she was meant to appear at with a sudden desperation. If she was going to have to do this, she was going to do it without looking like she wanted to be anywhere else.

Sudden screams assaulted her ears, and flashlights from press bulbs blinded her. A hand gripped her upper arm, steadying her as the crowd began to press in closer, a vice that she couldn't escape from. Panic began to envelop her, wrapping her up in its choking embrace as the voices seemed to merge into one. Her vision began to blur. The smell of burnt flesh began to seep into her nostrils, the cries of grief becoming all too clear; all she had to do was kill the last Horcrux…

"Don't fall," Ron's voice came in her ear, his breath tickling her ear. She snapped back into her senses. Unwilling. The flashes seemed to increase, and the throng surged closer, hungry like a starved pack of wolves spying their prey. The bodies pressed closer. Realising where she was, her eyes roamed the yelling faces, trying to spot Harry in the crowd. A noise high pitched and awful rang loud and true over the cacophony; everyone gathered slapped their hands over their ears, falling to the ground in agony. It ended just as it had begun; suddenly, and Hermione got to her feet as quickly and as gracefully as she could. The fewer pictures of her looking out of her depth and muddled the better.

"This is not the designated waiting area for the press." Shacklebolt's voice boomed over the gathered crowd, severe and unforgiving. "You will wait there, or this conference will be over, and I will personally do everything in my power to make harassing these three for information on the war a criminal offence. Do I make myself clear?" The answering clamour for the doors that were now visible each side of the room elicited a feeble chuckle from Hermione as the press fled. Shacklebolt strode towards them, flanked by six aurors. His face was livid, the expression mirrored in those following him.

"Come," he said, gesturing for them to follow; "we will take you to the hall the conference is to be in and give you time to get settled." Kingsley said, the anger melting from his face like ice in the midst of summer. He smiled kindly, and as Ron took a step forward, he was instantly between two aurors.

"We're being guarded?" He asked bemused, eyeing his two guardians with awe.

"You were meant to be met by us, not that mob." Kingsley replied, his voice showing his displeasure in an obvious manner. Hermione and Harry exchanged a surprised glance before stepping forward, their own aurors tailing them the moment they moved.

Shacklebolt led them through a corridor that looked to be in the midst of re-decorating, and a sudden shot of bile made Hermione dry heave. She gasped, stopping dead still and latching on to Harry for support.

"You alright?" Harry muttered, his eyes filled with alarm and concern, the aurors shifted uncomfortably, one of them gripping his wand overly tightly.

"Just…remembering the last time we were here, and why the halls are obviously being re-decorated." She murmured, making to walk forward again to catch up to Ron and Shacklebolt who were pausing at the top of the corridor almost impatiently. Harry's face paled further, his scar vivid on his forehead, his eyes bright.

"Yeah, yeah…I understand." Harry said quietly, slipping his hand into Hermione's in his brotherly fashion, and giving it a comforting squeeze. "Let's go" he said with a tug on Hermione's hand, gently pulling her after him. Together they caught up with Ron and Shacklebolt, Harry staring Shacklebolt's inquisitive gaze down with a brief shake of his head. Kinglsey gave an understanding nod in reply, clapping Hermione fondly on her back.

"You can do this Miss Granger." He said encouragingly, pushing open a pair of double doors with his other hand. He walked in, and Ron swore loudly. The room was large, but smaller than the Great Hall at Hogwarts Hermione thought thankfully. A podium at the opposite end had a long table set up, with four seats ready and waiting. It was well lit, as if all the attention would be there instead of anywhere else in the room, with the sinking feeling of dread, it was there Hermione realised they would be answering the questions. Rows upon rows of chairs were facing them, with a wide passage through the middle. It was an intimidating sight. She whimpered quietly to herself, brushing a strand of mahogany hair out of her eyes as Shacklebolt lead them through the aisle between the chairs, and onto the podium.

They grouped up at the end of the long, white table, eyeing it nervously. Shacklebolt turned to look at them and chuckled slightly, his expression sympathetic.

"You have name plates, so sit behind yours. Ron, you're here, Harry, next to him, and Hermione next to Harry." He ordered, pulling out the chair the other side of Hermione and sitting in it. He turned to face the doors, a resolute expression on his face, and a quick glance to his watch. "Five more minutes. I'd pour your selves a drink and get comfortable." He advised, as Harry threw himself down into his chair with a grimace. The room was unbearably empty, Hermione thought as she settled down into her chair which was thankfully soft. There was nothing on the table save her name plate, and a glass next to a filled jug of water for each sitting. She sighed, placing her hands around the glass and spinning it about, desperate for something to keep her mind off the wait.

"Just remember what we said," Harry's voice came, stronger than it was before, the determined edge to his tone a familiar and welcome blessing.

"Two minutes, ok; this is what will happen. You sit here, just sit here. I will take control of everything. When I pick a question for you, you listen, you answer. It'll stop after two hours. You're going to start with the story of what you were doing on the run, and how you killed Voldemort, then the questions. That clear?" Shacklebolt told them, his voice low and reassuring.

"I'll tell the story; they'll want to hear it from me." Harry deadpanned, pouring himself a glass of water as the aurors began to let the journalists in.

They came in like a swarm of insects. In the two minutes leading up to the conference, they infested the room at an alarming pace. A _Witch Weekly _journalist was fighting with someone from _Quidditch Daily_ and _the Daily Prophet_ for seats directly in front of Harry, while photographers tried to sneak as close as they could to the table to snap pictures with blinding flashes. Kingley's head remained down, his wand in the air, his eyes on his watch. At eleven o'clock exactly, his wand shot blue sparks, and the aurors shut the door to the dismayed screams of those who hadn't managed to get in fast enough. Silence fell over the previously buzzing room with a terrifying speed, and Hermione swore she could hear a pin drop.

"Welcome to the Press Conference regarding the Second War of Voldemort, with Mr Harry James Potter, Order of Merlin First Class. Miss Hermione Jean Granger, Order of Merlin First Class, and Mr Ronald Bilius Weasley, Order of Merlin First Class." Shacklebolt began, as the trio looked to him in shock, Ron's mouth falling open. "I will be presiding over this conference, and I ask that you remain quiet when someone is speaking. I will not hesitate to have you removed should you fail to obey. The conference will begin with the story of how they were able to defeat Voldemort from Mr Potter. You will then be free to ask questions. Pictures may be taken at any time. When ready Mr Potter," Shacklebolt said, gesturing to Harry with a gentle flick of his wrist, his gaze stern over the journalists. Many however had set up self-writing quills, and were leaning forward with eager hungry expressions. Hermione shuddered slightly, hoping to Merlin that it wasn't visible. The scrutiny was unbearable. The eyes of the witches and wizards of Britain stared with soul-sucking gazes. They stripped, searched, and leered at her. Their gazes were vile; the intrusion began to make her skin crawl. There was no where she could go. Nowhere to run too. Slipping her hand into Harry's she gave it a comforting squeeze for herself and for as Harry began his modified tale.

Harry's voice began in a nervous tumble, before gaining strength and momentum. Out it came, the story of how their love for each other had meant they'd practise hexes, curses, and defensive spells in random locations in the country. All too aware of whom they were, and what would happen to them if they were discovered. The looks from the female journalists were ravenous, torn between adoration and jealousy as they eyed Hermione, the flashes from the photographers capturing her emotionless looks. Harry recounted how they'd done everything they could to keep her away from the snatchers; her intelligence meant she could learn a spell faster and teach it, and anything that they could learn would help them against Voldemort. Hermione had become the valuable one, above Harry, above Ron; who tied them together with his laughter and loyalty. Hermione's mouth went dry as Harry spoke of loyalty, the memories of Ron leaving a bitter sting in her heart. Harry's voice continued, like waves on a shore as she watched the rapturous crowd bathe in his tale. The sickness she was beginning to feel began to build up and her head began to throb under the scrutinizing stares of the press. Then he stopped, and his hand squeezed Hermione's tight before letting it go, and resting on the table, his expression exhausted and defiant. Instantly, arms shot into the air, eyes pleading at Shacklebolt who remained impassive, watching Harry closely.

Eventually, Shacklebolt chose at random, shooting a lone spark from his wand at a random journalist. It tagged a woman in a deep purple robe, and peculiar red hair with an all too eager expression. She stood up in a rush, and the arms fell, a wave of disappointment becoming crushing as the woman leant forward to make sure her voice would reach the ears of those at the table.

"Elsa Canavan, columnist for _Witch Weekly_, Miss Granger; could you please confirm the rumours that you and either Mr Potter or Mr Weasley are a couple?"

The question was obtuse, Hermione thought as her jaw dropped slightly, and the weight of the gaze of everybody in the room made her feel as if she were only ten inches tall.

"Harry is my brother, and while I love Ron, I'm not in a relationship with him." She replied, as Harry shook his head with dismay beside her. Ron seemed to go bright red, and to Hermione's shock she clearly heard Ron's distinctive voice say; 'yet'. Harry groaned, and Hermione wished for the entire world that no one had heard him say such a thing. Shacklebolt had already chosen another person to ask a question, and as the woman sat down, a man rose, placing his wand to his stubbly throat to amplify his voice.

"Jason Lloyd, Wizarding _World_ reporter; Mr Potter, Mr Weasley and Miss Granger, what are your opinions on the recent Malfoy trials, and your opinion on Mr Draco Malfoy as it is known he is in your school year." Harry shifted uncomfortably in his seat, whilst Hermione tipped her head to the side in a feigned display of thinking. It was Ron who spoke first, and his angry stance made Hermione's insides squirm with dread and hope that he wasn't about to humiliate himself.

"They can all go die for what I care. Draco, especially, rotten bloody ferret all the way through he is." He snarled, and the quills of the reporters began to scratch upon the parchment with glee, the delight for drama rife.

"I'd say Draco is probably having an awful time right now, and I don't want to speak about him." Harry answered, his face twisted with distaste and irritation.

"I think he just needs a chance to be himself for once." Hermione found herself saying, as the words of Arthur Weasley floated to the forefront of her mind, the revelations of his upbringing on the tip of her tongue. She swallowed, and blinked furiously, looking down as the humiliating wetness of tears began to fill her eyes. Hoping they'd dissipate she looked up, thankful that only a few flashbulbs went off this time. Shacklebolt was relentless, and another witch was clambering excitedly to her feet, her wand at her throat before Hermione had even realised she'd retrieved it.

"Jessica Travers_, Daily Prophet_; Mr Potter, it was said that only you could have killed the wizard Vol…Volde- Voldemort, is this true?" She seemed proud of herself for some reason, and Hermione deduced it was probably the first time she'd said the name 'Voldemort' aloud. She resisted rolling her eyes; feeling oddly spiteful that she should have to endure such a thing, listen to people who couldn't even speak the wizard's name. She breathed in deeply, calming herself, reminding her mind that it was the fear talking; and not just for herself.

"I'm not sure, probably; I think anyone could have done it. There wasn't really much to it, I guess." Harry's response was awkward, and vague. Hermione found herself filling with pride at his answer, despite it not really answering what was most likely the only question related to the press conference they were going to get. A small river of relief was flowing, their desperate plan to not mention the terrible dark magic of immortality, lest someone else get ideas was working. Horcruxes seemed to be forgotten, as had the majesty of the Deathly Hallows. Harry's speech after killing Voldemort had been omitted, as had the Horcruxes and the Hallows. The public could forget all that in due time. It was better for the world that they revelled in the world free of Voldemort.

Another spark of light was already seeking out another reporter, and as the questions came, Hermione found herself answering inane questions about how she kept clean on the run, did she cook for the boys, was she sure she wasn't with either Harry or Ron? To which Hermione began gritting her teeth in annoyance as Ron would repeat the single word 'yet'; each time she denied it. It was only a matter of time someone heard it, and noted it down. A twisted relief had begun to numb the headache of blind panic that had formed, the questions were inane, barely touching on the matter at all; but the looks and constant camera flashes were the real danger.

She dreaded picking up the paper to see her gaunt face stare at her. She dreaded seeing how her words would be twisted. She dreaded seeing who she would be romantically paired with.

"Joselin Martin, _Daily Prophet_; Miss Granger, it heard that you arrived at Malfoy Manner in the hands of snatchers. Is this true? If it is, can you tell us what happened to you there, and how you came to be there?" Her voice was triumphant, and if Hermione could see her face she would bet it was filled with smug glee. Harry tensed beside her, and Shacklebolt shifted in his seat. Their modified tale had left out their tryst at Malfoy Manner, and Gringotts had been explained away by Bellatrix Lestrange, the goblins unwilling to correct anyone on the matter. Panic began to bubble and boil, the scorch Bellatrix had stabbed into her skin began to burn. Blood withdrew into the darkest depths of her being. The world began to spin.

She swayed.

The world went white.

The world went loud.

The world went black.

A fresh, sweet, yet medicinal smell wafted over Hermione. The world seemed bright, but blessedly quiet. Gentle footsteps were approaching her, and she felt stiff; exhausted and starving.

"Miss Granger, you're awake."

Pomfrey. She was at the hospital wing in Hogwarts.

"What happened?" She asked, her voice an effort to release from her throat.

"You fainted at the conference. Mr Potter apparated you to here, thinking you'd prefer it here than St. Mungos."

"He wasn't wrong," Hermione replied, as Madam Pomfrey smiled, pressing a steaming broth in to her hands.

"Eat; it'll make you feel better. There is today's paper on the table beside you to read. I'll release you once you're finished. You simply fainted after all."

"Thank you," She smiled, picking up the spoon and taking her first mouthful of the food. It was hearty, and tasted like nothing she'd had in a year. She balanced the bowl on her lap, carefully moving to grab the paper. The headline was brash, bold and unforgiving, and it made Hermione's heart stop.

LUCIUS MALFOY TO RECEIVE THE KISS

Underneath was a picture of him being led away in chains. The two aurors either side of him looking disgruntled at his desperate thrashing. His hopes for freedom dashed as they took each step. Behind him were Narcissa and Draco Malfoy. Her eyes scanned over Narcissa, her face impassive, her back rigid. She was a picture of pure-blood perfection in comparison to her husband. Her eyes lingered onto Draco, he was in a suit; again. As if he wore anything else, his hair falling into his eyes as he shook his arm to fix the cuff. His expression was disinterested, almost bored with the entire thing, but the ever so slight twist to his mouth betrayed him. He walked after his father with a lithe grace that became hypnotic. She took another bite of her food, savouring the mixed vegetables and meat, and spying a layer of noodles beneath.

She scanned the article in an absent manner. The tone was clearly delighted that the Dementors Kiss was to be bestowed upon a Malfoy, and spoke of the rest of the family. She blinked with surprise when she realised that Draco was now the head of the Malfoy family, and was now an extremely rich man. Weather he was able to be free long enough to use and enjoy his wealth was another matter. She found her eyes wandering over to Draco again and again, fascinated with the regal air he displayed despite his father's situation. The way his mother mirrored it told her that it was a family trait; look as though having all your secrets splashed upon the entirety of a newspaper was nothing to you. They were above this. Behave as though nothing can hurt you. Like nothing can ever hurt you. Like you've never been hurt in your life.

The memory of Malfoy smashing up the transfiguration classroom flashed back into her mind, the two winter like eyes alight with agony as he stared at her.

The Malfoy's could feel alright, they just weren't going to show it.

She ate her meal in a surprising speed, feeling as though she'd eaten an abraxan afterwards. Slipping out of her hospital bed; she steadied herself, feeling like the evening couldn't come fast enough. She made up her mind to go find Harry, an irritated prickle at the back of her neck when her thoughts came to Ron. She pulled her sleeves up, only to stare at her arm.

The wound she'd earned from her time at Malfoy Manner had reduced. It wasn't a long, irritated scorch upon her arm, red and angry; painful to the touch. It was all but vanished. Its length had slipped back, and now a pale little starburst was just below her elbow. The scar was whiter than her skin, but only visible in some lights; she turned her arm wondrously, looking at it from all angles.

"I did my best," Madam Pomfrey's gentle voice came from behind her; she jumped, a blush spreading to her cheeks.

"Thank you…thank you so much."

"It's the least I could do, I can't do anything about the burns, bruises and cuts…still don't have everything brewed and re-stocked, but I did have a few spells and potions for that. It won't go completely – time will take care of it, Dark Magic did that, and I think Mr Potter can tell you that Dark Magic always leaves a mark." She smiled, taking the bowl from Hermione's bed. She flicked her wand, and the bed was unmaking itself, priming for its clean and next sheets.

Hermione smiled warmly at Madam Pomfrey and left the hospital wing, aiming for the Burrow, with a much lighter heart.


	6. Touches and Winds

Hermione fidgeted, smoothing down her black dress anxiously, and twisting a stray mahogany curl about her finger absently. She regarded herself in the mirror. Several Hogwarts meals had done a little good in filling out her skeletal figure, but the terrors of the night killed her appetite in the morning, and her breakfasts were almost non-existent. Harry had chided her the day before when she'd only taken a banana; and she dreaded what he'd say if he found out that this morning, she'd skipped breakfast all together, unable to eat at all.

Today was another funeral.

Harry, Ron and Ginny had said they'd come to meet her in Gryffindor tower, and it was in the common room she stalked; waiting for them to come and collect her, then actively force her to face the day.

She didn't want too. She really didn't want too.

She bit her lip as the portrait swung open, and Ron clambered in first, his red hair somehow even brighter against his black robes. Harry followed, turning to help Ginny with a peculiar expression on her face. Hermione thought back to Ginny's worries about the pair when they'd gone shopping, and reluctantly agreed that there may have been something too it.

"'Mione," Ron greeted, an overly cheerful grin on his face considering the day, and flung his arms about her. She cringed inwardly at the nickname, whilst wrapping her arms about in him in a hug she hoped he'd translate as friendly. He squeezed, making Hermione wince in pain as her bruises and burns were pinched, Ron seemingly oblivious to his own wounds in the process.

"Hermione," Harry said behind Ron, we best get going, Andromeda should be arriving soon." She nodded, relieved, releasing Ron who didn't do the same.

"Ron," Ginny scolded, throwing a poisonous look at her brother as Hermione gave her a thankful one in return. He dropped his arms, and Hermione smiled weakly at him as she made to follow Ginny out the portrait hole. She gave Harry a warm smile as she passed him, and slipped her arm into Ginny's.

The walk down went slowly, Harry's face becoming grim as they descended the floors of Hogwarts, stepping over the broken walls as had become habit.

"You hear Malfoy's mother got off lightly?" Ron said, attempting to make conversation as they trudged along.

"I hardly call being under a trace for two years lightly Ron," Ginny replied, her brows furrowed.

"Should've gone to Azkaban. She's a Malfoy; she's as bad as her husband and her ferret of a son." Ron retorted, his blue eyes beginning to glitter dangerously.

"How come she didn't?" Hermione asked, turning to Harry and Ginny for answers as she sensed Ron's fury beginning to ignite.

"Turns out, her not having the Dark Mark helped; quite a bit, and all the memory evidence all showed she wasn't exactly a willing player. It was more, she couldn't help a lot of what was going on around her; but her lying to Voldemort is the real kicker. She may have believed in all the blood purity crap, but her willingness to lie to Voldemort kept her out of Azkaban, and under a trace." Harry told her, his face twisted with conflict. "Just seems odd, you can believe in all the blood purity stuff…I can't get my head around it." He admitted, as Ginny threw him a proud look. A silence managed to fall over the four of them as they reached the third floor. Spying house-elves polishing trophies they smiled, and Hermione's lips thinned.

"They're not actually burying Tonks and Lupin here are they?" Ginny asked, attempting to distract Hermione from one of her infamous house-elf rights speeches.

"No," Hermione answered, unaware that Ginny's ploy had worked, "Andromeda asked McGonagall if she could scatter some of their ashes here in a sort of ceremony; so that people got their chance to say goodbye." Ginny nodded, looking forward as they reached the last staircase before the entrance hall.

:: :: ::

They'd gathered by the hourglasses, the great timers filled with precious gems were broken; the floor had become a glittering sea of stones. In the middle of the entrance hall stood the Weasley family, Andromeda, with Teddy bundled into her arms, and McGonagall. They stood, sombre and silent as the sunlight from the outside warmed them slowly. For funerals chilled Hermione to the core.

"I really ought to do something about this," Minerva said, gesturing to the expensive mess about them. She glanced at her watch briefly, as Andromeda began to feel increasingly awkward beside them all. "Oh I'll do it now; we're still waiting for Shacklebolt anyway." She turned, and began an elaborate incantation with a graceful arc of her wand that Hermione watched fascinated, Ron began to inch closer to her as Teddy let out a gurgle. Streams of rubies began to gather about the Gryffindor timer, the glass sealed together with a slight lavender glow as the rubies began to tumble in. Flitwick arrived down the stairs, his own attire as dark as the night sky, and upon seeing Minerva in the midst of her ritual, hurried down the stairs faster; his wand appearing in his hand.

"Good job Minerva," he praised, standing beside her and falling into the same ritual as his colleague. Soon enough, the sapphires of Ravenclaw began to trickle into the hourglass as it repaired itself, the glow simmering over its surface. A moment later Minerva seemed to jerk out of her reverie, her wand slipping back into her pocket as she admired her houses point keeper with pride, she turned to see Flitwick in her pose moments before. She smiled warmly joined the group once more as Shacklebolt entered; apologies all over his face.

"Didn't mean to keep you waiting, but the Ministry…" he trailed off, an apologetic shrug given as Arthur waved it off.

"Don't be ridiculous Kingsley, I know how it must be," Arthur said sympathetically, as Kingsley gave him a brotherly slap on the back.

"Would be harder if I didn't have you there to make things go easier." Arthur flushed, a proud expression coming over him as Flitwick finished. McGonagall clapped her hands together, surveying the group as she opened her mouth to speak Andromeda stepped forward suddenly.

"Wait- I err…" she faltered, her courage slipping as McGonagall eyed her curiously.

"I assure you all is as you wished 'Dromeda," Minerva said kindly, moving to shoo them out the door again, as Andromeda's resolve built up again.

"No, not yet; we're still waiting for two people…" She said her voice stable although her face betrayed it.

"Who?" Molly asked, holding Arthur back from the sun outside. Andromeda sighed, her eyes closing as if bracing herself.

"Narcissa and Draco Malfoy." She said, holding Teddy closer to her for comfort. The silence that followed her announcement became painful; the sound of Teddy's snuffles the only relief from the crushing surprise.

"The Malfoy's." Arthur deadpanned, clapping his hands together and giving them a quick rub. "Right-o" he finished, striding out the doors and towards Hagrid's before Molly could stop him. Bill, Fleur and their infant daughter followed, gesturing for Charlie, George and Percy to do the same. Shacklebolt chuckled to himself, shaking his head, but the laughter didn't reach his eyes as Filius and Minerva left swiftly.

"I ought to remind you that Narcissa Malfoy may have escaped Azkaban, but it wasn't by much. Her son's trial is soon; he faces charges worse than your sister." Shacklebolt warned, and Andromeda nodded, her eyes saddened.

"I understand, but you know that neither of them can use magic at the moment, they need to be here."

"Why?" Molly asked, stepping forwards, her eyes wide and confused, the faintest glimmer of the famous temper simmering on the surface of her skin.

"You should understand this best Molly," Andromeda pleaded, rocking Teddy gently; "they're the only blood relatives he has left besides me. He needs to meet them at least once. I need my sister…my family." She sighed, looking as though she was restraining herself, "Teddy will need more family than just an adopted one. He only has me. Goodness knows I won't be fun to be around when I really start to get old. He just needs a memory or two of people he is related to by blood. I would like to see if Narcissa and I can put our differences behind us and actually…possibly, be sisters again." She pondered aloud as Molly melted her lower lip wobbling.

"I can't promise I'll be civil, but…I'll try. I best tell the others to be on their best behaviour today." She sighed in defeat, scurrying out the doors and into the sun. Hermione followed; her thoughts on the arching body of Bellatrix Lestrange, killed by Molly Weasley. Nothing had been said about her death, as though it was unspoken agreement that the best had happened.

The path was bathed in sunlight, the steps needing some attention as the grass fought to reclaim them to natures grasp. She slipped, her arms shooting out to each side of her to steady herself, but a firm; unfamiliar grasp had already shot out to grab her.

"Steady there Granger," Malfoy purred, his hand tight about her wrist. He smirked at her, his winter eyes sparkling with mischief. His skin was softer than Hermione had expected, with callouses where one would normally hold a wand; she assumed they were also where someone would grip a broom. She realised that he was holding her up with one arm, his other hand tucked into the pocket of his suit as though she were an unruly toddler. She blushed, unaware of his apparent strength, he smiled slightly as he noted the pale rose flush she began to sport. He pulled her to her feet, gently, almost gentlemanly as Ron let out a furious snarl from behind them. Hermione sighed, throwing Malfoy an appreciative glance, and opening her mouth to speak as Ron's arm came hammering onto her wrist.

"Let go of her you filth." Ron spat, his face puce and contorted with rage. His grip on her broke immediately, and Hermione gasped with pain as Ron's fist collided with her wrist. Malfoy's eyes glittered with mirth and the faintest hint of irritation as he regarded Ron, Hermione's furious hissing amusing him further as she cradled her wrist.

"That _hurt_ Ronald." She interjected, not bothering to disguise the pain that had seeped into her tone. Malfoy had begun regarding his own wrist with a disinterested expression, but at the sound of Hermione's pained voice, his eyes checked her over; as if searching for a visible wound.

"I can't wait for you to go to Azkaban and die there. I hope you get the kiss." Ron was continuing, ignoring Hermione's chastising. "You're a complete piss taker. Calling her a mudblood, taking the Dark Mark then just coming here like nothing is wrong." Ron had moved closer to Malfoy, who had tucked both his hands into his pockets. He was looking Ron in the eye, his snow gaze set on Ron's blustering ocean blue. His face was still holding the disinterested expression, the unconcerned features seeming to fuel the fires of Ron's rage. Ron continued to close the gap between them both, hissing and spitting insults like an enraged cat, his fists clenched. Hermione studied Draco curiously; usually he would have started laughing, thrown a hex, or a punch; and insult at the very least. Then she saw it. The lone glimmer of weariness that sparkled in his eyes. He was tired of this. Hermione thought back to the last time she'd really experienced Malfoy's viciousness. It wasn't obvious anymore, she couldn't remember a clear time in sixth year, and the seventh hadn't really counted. Had he matured during the war? It had most definitely taken its toll on everybody she had seen, but the effects it had had on her childhood bully began to fascinate her. Stray thoughts of if he had just changed techniques mingled with anger at Ron's behaviour.

He was just gearing up for a punch as Harry's voice interrupted.

"Ron, come on mate, not today." He said, clapping his hands down hard on his friend's shoulders. Ginny's conflicted expression hovering at his shoulder. Ron's fist froze, and he growled at Malfoy again. Malfoy took his cue, and nodded briefly to Hermione as she nodded back in thanks, before sauntering off down the path towards Hagrid's hut like absolutely nothing had happened, his platinum locks becoming gold in the sun.

"What was that about Hermione?" Ginny asked her, slipping her arm though her friends kindly, as Harry's hand encircled her other.

"I slipped, was probably going to take a tumble down to Hagrid's but Malfoy…Malfoy caught me…then Ron decided it would be a good time to smack us both as Malfoy was putting me on my feet again." She finished a thoughtful, irritated tone lacing together as her eyes became glued to the tall blond Slytherin further on down the path.

"At least he's not trying to start a fight," Harry said gruffly as Ron fumed beside him, "But I guess, considering his trial is tomorrow, he wants to make the best impression." Harry continued, considering as he looked towards the boy he'd rebuffed so many years ago.

"If Malfoy is here though, that must mean…"

"So is Narcissa." Hermione finished off Ginny's musing aloud as Hagrid's hut came into view, to the left of his home, people had gathered, the Weasley's bright red hair marking them out as they stood opposing a lone, blonde figure. Narcissa was obviously alone, the other attendees keeping their distance, out of spite or the lack of knowing what to do, Hermione watched as her son strode up to her. The four of them joined the split group waiting by Hagrid's home, and Hermione stood in the middle of the Malfoy's and Weasley's, pretending not to notice the split. McGonagall gave her a small smile for her actions, and the reward was enough to keep her there as Harry remained with her. Ron going to stand next to Percy, while Ginny kept her hand in Harry's, seemingly more interested with what was going on to take sides. They stood like that, unspeaking, waiting as footsteps and feminine voices on the path could be heard. Narcissa's pale head snapped around to watch her sister walk tentatively down the steps, Molly gripping her arm and guiding her. Hermione flushed, wondering if this was because they'd seen her slip. Teddy's fingers could be seen waving to no one in particular from his bundle in Andromeda's arms, and Malfoy's eyebrows rose with a slight interest. Eventually, the three reached them at the path's end, their eyes scanning over the group with interest.

Andromeda's eyes met Narcissa's.

Upon seeing her sister fully, Narcissa paled ever so slightly, her pale blue eyes beginning to glisten with tears.

"Here, Harry, take Teddy." Andromeda said, passing over the infant to a mortified Harry. Ginny laughed at him, and began to make sure Teddy's head was supported whilst Harry shifted his arms. Andromeda's gaze was still on Narcissa's however, and she walked over to her, her hands outstretched in a tentative welcome.

"Narcissa," she began, as Narcissa took hold of her hand and pulled her away from the group. Draco walked forward as his mother left him, standing next to Hermione and peering at the child in Harry's arms. The Weasley's stiffened as Hermione threw him a side-long glance, looking at him with a masked expression of curiosity. Ginny flat out stared, as Harry looked at Draco with an unreadable expression.

"So that's my cousin," Draco spoke eventually, after a long painfully quiet pause, leaning back so he was stood up straight next to Hermione. His presence reminded her of his touch earlier, and she fought against the rising blush that wanted to appear for a reason she couldn't quite fathom. A smirk developed once more on Draco's face, and she wondered why, not able to think of a reason for him to be smirking besides making the Weasley's uncomfortable, but that wasn't it. There had to be more.

She looked over to the Weasley family, most of them watching Draco with a wary expression save Ron, who was looking between Draco and Hermione with a murderous scowl. The penny dropped, and Hermione bit back a sigh. He was antagonising Ron. Draco seemed to deliberately shift his weight on his feet so he was marginally closer to Hermione, pretending not to realise it, as the voice of his Mother carried over to them all.

"I was so thankful when I got the invite 'Dromeda, after everything…when Mama blasted you off the family tree. Oh I missed you so much, I didn't mean for us to not talk; but you know how it is…" Narcissa sobbed, the gathered group trying their best to pretend they couldn't hear as the wind blew around them. The breeze wafted an earthy, somehow fresh scent over her, and she breathed in deeply, enjoying the smell of freshly cut grass. She looked up to see Draco doing the same, his chest rising as he inhaled. She blushed again, and a low grumble from Ron made her look up, as Malfoy replaced his smirk.

"I've lost everything 'Dromeda, everything. My home…the Dark Lord blew it to pieces, my husband; gone. My friends…I can't bare to lose my son. Not my Draco." Narcissa continued, and Draco shifted his weight again, attempting to disguise his welling discomfort as him casually rearranging his clothing. It was something that stirred a memory in Hermione, the image of him fiddling with his shirts cuff as he left the courtroom coming to mind. "For everything I've done and believed in, losing my freedom to use magic is penance enough, but to take my son from me too..." her voice had quietened, its painful desperation ringing through the air. The group shared awkward looks as Draco decided to paint on a disinterested expression again, his sharp pointed features making him look dangerous. Andromeda could be heard comforting her sister quietly, their hands entwined in a tentative hold.

"If it's genuine, your wish to…become…friends; then I'll do everything in my power to do what is right by you and your grandson. I've lost too much to do otherwise." Narcissa's voice had become steely towards the end, her inner strength returning. From the corner of her eye she could see Narcissa's back straighten, the classic Malfoy regal posture returning; she seemed to be bracing herself for Andromeda to start laughing at her.

"It's genuine Cissy, for me and for Teddy." Andromeda replied, wiping a stray tear from her sister's porcelain face. The tree's rustled, almost with approval, and Narcissa dabbed at her face with a long pale finger. Andromeda smiled, her face creasing with affection as she watched her sister carefully pat her immaculate blonde hair back into place, her floor length black robes being given a quick check before she deemed herself ready.

"Shall we?" Narcissa asked, raising her arm for Andromeda to take, and turning on her heel to walk back to the group. Seeing this, the Weasley family began to look at each other, pretending they'd been doing anything other than eaves drop, whilst Draco took a step slightly closer to Hermione; looking past her to view his young cousin once more.

Hermione's senses almost gave in completely as she realised that the earthy, fresh cut grass smell she'd experienced earlier had come from Draco. A blush blossomed instantly, giving her gaunt features a fresh flush of life. Teddy cooed and Hermione took the chance to hide her face, mirroring Draco, she looked forward, sticking her tongue out at the child; her hair falling over her cheeks. She could hear his low, quiet chuckle beside her, and the blush deepened as a familiar friendly voice joined them all.

"Yer all 'ere arr yeh?" Hagrid asked, Fang dribbling by his side, and his beetle like eyes sparkling with this affection.

"We are, yes," Minerva replied, stepping forward as if to follow Hagrid, taking her cue, the Weasley's imitated, and Hagrid looked mildly surprised.

"Good good, expected a wait, right then, follow me!" He said, turning on his heel and walking back the way he came. The group shuffled after him in an awkward silence, it seemed conversation topics were hard to come by with the two Malfoy's with them. Malfoy had fallen back from Hermione, and was bringing up the rear of the group with his mother and Andromeda; their quiet stroll through the grounds was oddly pleasant. The silence awkward to others, but as the grass kicked about their ankles and the sun warmed her through, Hermione began to relax. Ron was flicking looks at her over his shoulder. His curiously tormented, furious and jealous expressions didn't bother Hermione, and she found herself mildly surprised that she found comfort in the fact Malfoy was no doubt dying from laughter at Ron's behaviour beneath his calm and cool exterior.

Her thoughts were on Malfoy again. She couldn't figure out what he'd done to work his way into her mind in the way he had since the wars end. She'd found herself thinking about him more than usual, or than she ever had before, he'd attacked her – but that was comfortingly Malfoy. That was just who he was. The conversation they'd shared that day was what had affected her; her announcing he must clearly have no friends. Arthur Weasley's shocked announcement at his home before his son's funeral of the Malfoy trial had re-enforced her belief she was right. Now she seemed to be observing him for any more clues that he may be hiding underneath his mask. Truth was, in between reading up every waking moment she had that was free on how to fix the school; Malfoy was the other thing that kept her mind entertained.

It was funny, how that had come to be.

The wind rustled her curls about her head, and she tucked the loose strands behind her ears, happy to reveal her blush free cheeks again. The air was becoming cooler, and she realised Hagrid had lead them mid-way between the lake and his hut. A square enclosure had been built, just next to the tree line, and young trees had been planted at the back, where the forest yearned to encroach upon the schools grounds. Rose bushes had been planted about the other fences, framing what looked to be a young garden in progress. Another square in the middle was filled with budding flowers, their first blooms of vibrant colour just peeking through the green leaves. A sign was up over the split in the fence, its arch declaring that it was a memorial garden for all who had fallen in the war fought at Hogwarts, and a lump began to form in Hermione's throat.

They walked in, gathering around the square of flowers, the attitude of the group suddenly sombre and mournful.

"Hagrid, in a few years this will be stunning," Minerva praised him gently, looking about at the little markers on the ground, signifying where a statue or a bench would be. There were a few places were a tree was marked, and more for flower beds. Hagrid nodded his head, abashed but pleased as Shacklebolt stepped forward, meaning to preside.

The service began. No loud bangs from a cannon. No light shows from fireworks. No patronuses. Shacklebolt's rich tones spoke of love and sacrifice. Harry spoke of family. Andromeda gave her thanks.

In the rich summer sun, she looked towards the gentle breeze, allowing it to mess her greying hair. She closed her eyes, pulling out a small pouch from the insides of her robes. The group remained quiet, respectfully watching the abandoned matriarch in her grief. Andromeda pulled the strings of the pouch open, and took a pinch of the ashes. She threw it high into the air, watching the wind whip it up, as tears streamed down her face.

"My husband," she said, taking another pinch and throwing it in the breeze.

"My daughter," she continued, throwing the final pinch into the air, she watched the final wave of ashes scatter before speaking again.

"My son-in-law." She finished, hanging her head as her tears splashed down her cheeks, onto her robes, and soaked into the soil below. Narcissa stared in horror at her sister after hearing her goodbye, her pale cheeks ever so slightly tinged with red. Hermione wondered if it were shame at having sobbed about all she'd lost earlier, only to hear her sister admit her family were dead; a baby her only survivor. Harry had passed Teddy over to Ginny, who had since handed him over to her Mother. Harry's wand was out, and with a feeling of pride, Hermione knew what was coming next.

"Thanks Lupin," Harry spoke quietly, his silver stag walking forwards, standing on the flowers proudly. The Malfoy's were out right staring; attempting to keep their emotions wrapped under the aristocratic stances and failing. Harry left, walking away towards Hogwarts, his arm dragged across his face; Hermione knew he was wiping away tears. Ginny left next, with the rest of the Weasley's, Ron included, as the staff of Hogwart's made to follow. Shacklebolt threw the Malfoy's a warning glance, before taking his own leave. Andromeda, with Teddy back in her arms left with Narcissa, the pair struggling to find words but somehow comfortable; and before she knew it, she was left alone with Draco.

He looked at her, and bowed his blond head, almost respectfully.

"See you tomorrow Granger," he said, and left, his elegant stride watched by Hermione as the wind tussled her.


	7. Trials and Time

He stared at himself in the mirror. The large, glass wall of his Slytherin bathroom allowing him the ability to check his attire over from head to toe, he smoothed the material of his jacket down; leaning to sniff it just in case. It was clean, thank Merlin. He combed his hair once more, making sure it's shine was bright and visible, his eyes wide and bright with fear.

He'd done everything he could have to be ready.

He'd bathed; a bath fit for deities was had. His clothes were fresh. His hair was neat. He smelt good. His shoes had been shined. He'd gone for a walk around the grounds with his mother after the service. He'd soaked in the fresh bright rays of sunlight that he may never see again. He'd kissed his mother goodbye. The he'd eaten; admiring the Great Hall's ceiling for what could be one last time. He'd eaten until he was full, then he'd eaten again; sitting in a bizarre comfortable silence with Granger, who sat at the other end of the table; a book propped up against a jug of juice.

Granger.

She'd been lingering in the back of his thoughts since he'd discovered that she would be at his trial. At night she'd visit, screaming. He'd stood close to her yesterday, deliberately to annoy the Weasel-King; over hearing her turn him down had been a wonderful way to find entertainment for his possible last day of freedom. It had been far too easy, just hovering so close he could touch her, making it look like she wasn't that close at all. The Weasels face had been a sight; he'd almost had an aneurysm. He smiled at the memory, but his brows furrowed with realisation. Ron's temper was far more explosive than he'd remembered it, and he couldn't figure out why. Most likely, it was the war. It had affected everyone. He relaxed his being for a moment, shaking himself off as if enjoying his ability to move before he sat before Potter and Granger in chains. Hermione's face floated into the forefront of his vision. He blinked, wondering where that sudden vision had come from. If any girls face was going to appear in his mind, he would have expected Pansy's pug dog features. Not the china doll, peaches and cream complexion of Granger. He sighed, momentarily deciding that if a girl's face was going to haunt him for the rest of his existence, Granger's wasn't the worst he could do. He shuddered, remembering Millicent Bullstrode; thanking Merlin that Daphne Greengrass and her unobtainable airs had been enough to balance the women of Slytherin out.

The wall of the Slytherin dungeon opened, and Professor McGonagall entered, two unknown aurors behind her. He stared, unmoving as she looked the room over, a small pleased glimmer in her eye as she saw his attempts to tidy his mess up without magic. He'd moved everything broken to one corner of the room, and swept up the shards of glass and quartz. He knew why she was here.

It was time.

He swallowed, and McGonagall sighed.

"I'm sure you know why we are here Mr Malfoy," she said emotionlessly, her eyes meeting her pupils unflinchingly.

"I'm not stupid." He found himself responding, and the aurors shifted behind McGonagall, readying themselves for his resistance.

"Well then; your wand." She said, holding her hand out for it expectantly. He withdrew it from his pocket; it hadn't been used in far too long, and gave it what could have been one last fond look. He walked slowly over to his headmistress, pressing the handle of his wand into her expectant hand firmly. His mouth parting as if to speak, but she got there first.

"I assure you, I will look after the wand. Upon your freedom, if from Azkaban or simply the trial ending, I shall return it to you." His eyebrows shot up in surprise, but her words supplied an odd comfort that he hadn't expected from the Transfigurations mistress.

"Thank you, but…that wasn't what I was going to say. I meant to thank you for…" He swallowed again, inwardly cursing the difficulty of his statement, "to thank you for giving me a chance to come back to Hogwarts." He finished, aware that it would have seemed garbled and incoherent; unfitting for a Malfoy. McGonagall looked slightly taken back, but she dipped her head as her lips thinned.

"If Hogwarts can give you another chance at life that you won't throw away; then you shall have it. Now. You cannot be late." She finished, stepping back and allowing the aurors forward. She slipped his wand into a case he hadn't realised she was holding, and watched him with sad eyes as he raised his hands warily.

The aurors flicked their wands, and chains sneaked around his wrists, snaring his ankles. A fatigue began to seep into his very being, his very core now a slave to his shackles; draining him of all energy.

"What…what is this?" He gasped, struggling to keep his eyes open as he fell to his knees.

"Can't have you possibly transforming on us can we?" The auror to his left said; a voice surprisingly high for the burly figure he sported. His thoughts muddled, confusion blocking all hope he had for sense, he vaguely wondered if they meant he was an unregistered animagus, the memory of Rita Skeeter not one he wished to re-live. The woman really was a beetle.

"I guess not," he agreed, marginally unaware of what he was saying, as he found himself being pulled to his feet.

"Let's go." The other auror said, and with the familiar, but now painful pull of apparition; he vanished.

:: :: ::

Hermione had taken the same amount of care with her appearance as she had the day of the press conference. The Daily Prophet had gone wild; a doubly thick issue had been released stuffed full of pictures with them looking bored. Focus had been on an apparent love triangle between them, but had declared she was single, and then went into detail about how she'd helped bring Voldemort down. Witch Weekly had focused on her appearance, what she was wearing, how she'd done her hair; and had paired her with both Harry and Ron. The result of which was that Mrs Weasley had once again stopped being as kind to Hermione as she usually was; until Ginny loudly threatened to move into Hogwarts with Hermione, bringing Harry with her, if her mother didn't regain the sense to listen to them; and not a gossip rag. All in all, the conference had been somewhat useless; but Shacklebolt had been right, there were no owls trying to squeeze information out of them.

She sat in the kitchen of the Burrow as Ginny whirled her wand about her head, gently tugging her hair into a simple, yet elegant knot at the back of her head. The youngest Weasley had helped pick out a dress for her to wear earlier, and Hermione had taken great care over eating her breakfast that morning so as to not spill any of it on the form flattering pencil dress she'd been handed. She looked at her hands as Ginny finished, patting the knot to signify she was done, and Hermione smiled to herself.

"Thanks Gin, you're a life saver." She said fondly, as Ginny sat next to her.

"Don't be silly, I'll teach you these things if you want. You're also forgetting it's easier to do on someone else than it is yourself." Ginny chided with an amused quirk to her freckled features, gesturing to her own long red hair that she'd tied back into a simple pony tail. Hermione grinned properly; as Harry bounded down the stairs in a suit he looked surprisingly comfortable wearing.

"Not robes?" Ginny asked, giving Harry and admiring glance as Hermione picked up her blazer from the seat next to her.

"Nah, think this is going to be uncomfortable, your Mum said to wear something I'd feel more at home in. Was raised as a muggle so…it's what I'm used to." He said, shrugging. Ginny nodded, not really minding in the slightest as the fireplace roared to life and Arthur Weasley stepped out of it.

He stumbled forward slightly, catching himself on one of the many soft chairs, shaking his head free of soot. He knocked his still shabby robes about, and a shower of ash was set free, it gathered about him on the floor in a halo; a guilty expression coming to life upon Arthur's face. He looked about in what was clearly meant to be a sneaky way, pulling his wand out of his robes and pointing it at the floor. A second later, and the mess had vanished, the floor as pristine as it had been previously. He tucked his wand away, and walked into the kitchen, his face fell a little as he realised the three had seen everything.

"Don't…don't mention that to Molly would you?" He asked a hopeful twinkle in his eye.

"Don't mention what Dad?" Ginny replied, a look not uncanny to George's mischievous air on her face. Arthur sighed with relief, giving his daughter a loving expression.

"That's my girl; Molly worked too hard to keep that floor clean." He smiled, turning to Harry and Hermione who were both still eating. "Harry, Hermione, I've been sent to collect you." He continued, giving them both an approving glance as he saw what they were wearing. Harry started to shovel food down his throat so fast Hermione thought he might choke, and Ginny snorted with laughter. Arthur blinked, taken aback by Harry's sudden speed eating. "Not, not now, there's still some time!" He exclaimed, and Harry threw him a relieved look as he slowed down his shovelling.

"Are you going to be there at the trial too Mr Weasley?" Hermione asked him, her brown eyes wide. He shook his head and Hermione slumped a little, not aware that she'd been hoping for another familiar presence at the trial.

"No, I'm to apparate you there, and then leave." He told her, picking up a croissant.

"Do you know who the judge is?" Harry asked him this time, between mouthfuls.

"Shacklebolt wanted Amelia Bones…but she's obviously…instead he has Miranda Coppergrove presiding. She was the protégé of Bones, so just as fair, and just as much someone you don't want to mess with. She's just a little inexperienced." Arthur told him, but the confident expression on his face told Hermione everything she needed to know. The outcome of the trial wouldn't be likely to be fixed with someone with a reputation for fairness at the helm. An unexpected dribble of relief streamed down Hermione's throat as she drank.

Silence reigned once more, as was now the common situation; as if all were able to appreciate the sound of nothing more since all previous silences had been terse, strained, and the echo to a deathly scream. These had become comfortable; almost pleasant silences. They finished their meals just as Arthur began to look as if he was about to drag them away; Ginny kissed Harry, and he grinned much to Hermione's inward relief. She stood, facing Arthur who gently took hold of her arm, holding his other hand out for Harry to join him.

"We'll be going straight to Kingsley, no one else; he'll be waiting and he'll then take you straight there. There shouldn't be any press." Arthur said, with the all too familiar tones of needing to keep them safe from a danger they couldn't run from forever. He gripped Harry's arm; almost protectively, and the pull of apparition engulfed her.

:: :: ::

They'd changed his chains, thank Merlin. He could just about stand, but he knew that that much effort wouldn't be needed; he'd be chained to a chair, his arms behind his back. It wouldn't be comfortable, but he wouldn't be on his feet.

Draco prowled his holding cell like a caged lion. Despite his enclosure being surprisingly bearable, a non-ratty blanket for one, and a passably comfortable make-shift bed, the idea of staying still became anathema. He stalked, listening to the aurors gather outside his pen, hearing them prepare for his arrival.

:: :: ::

"Shacklebolt," Arthur said quietly, his voice low and the keeper of such a serious urgent tone that Shacklebolt's head whipped about immediately. He smiled fondly at the sight of Arthur, and began his short walk to them, followed once again by aurors. He held his arm out in greeting, grasping Arthur's forearm in a friendly welcome, his eyes flicking between Harry and Hermione before settling back on Arthur.

"You have any problems?" He asked Mr Weasley seriously, his gaze stern and searching as he met Arthur's blue stare.

"None," he replied, moving to encourage Harry and Hermione forward.

"Good man, I'll see you after all this," Shacklebolt said as a friendly dismissal, gesturing with his other arm for the aurors to settle into the shadow of each Harry and Hermione. She bristled slightly, feeling ever so slightly intimidated by the two wizards standing behind each of her shoulders. Harry looked mildly annoyed. Arthur turned, nodding to both his son's friends, and vanished with a crack as Shacklebolt held his hand out for Hermione's bag.

"I'm sorry, but it's got to be searched before you go to the set waiting rooms." He apologised as Hermione handed him her schoolbag, filled with several books. Harry looked slightly stunned, as if the realisation that he'd not be in the same room as Hermione had hit him.

"Did you want a book or something Harry?" Hermione asked him with an amused twist of her mouth as she saw Harry's expression, he grinned at her, relieved and she laughed as Shacklebolt finished casting his spells. Finding nothing he passed it back to her with an approving, slightly proud smile, and Hermione smiled back.

"Got anything on Quidditch?" He asked hopefully, as Hermione snorted.

"No, but I think you'll enjoy this." Hermione said, pulling a tome out of her portable library. She handed it to Harry, who looked confused until he spotted the title. She'd handed him a book on the latest defensive magic, and had planned to read it to stay up to date with both Harry and Ron once their auror training began.

"You're not wrong," He replied with a grin, as Shacklebolt coughed politely. They shuffled, slightly embarrassed, and they began their walk down the corridor; past an intimidating pair of oak double doors.

"You'll be in separate rooms, like all the witnesses, and an auror will be there to keep you company. When you're needed, you'll be summoned, and your auror will help you from there. Hermione; here we are, don't be nervous." Shacklebolt explained as he stopped by a much more welcoming wooden door, placing his hand on the handle of it and pushing the door open in a gentlemanly way.

"Thanks," She replied quietly, giving him a small smile and walking in. She turned, giving Harry an encouraging nod before Shacklebolt closed the door with a gentle click. She sighed, and turned to look at the room properly this time, realising it wasn't the most unpleasant of places to be kept in for the duration of the trial. It was small, certainly, but the walls were a pale tan colour, and a thick creamy coloured carpet made it seem larger than it actually was. A pair of chairs were either side of a chess set, a shelf just above it with a water jug and two glasses upon it.

"Miss Granger," A voice greeted, making Hermione jump slightly, "Oh, gosh, I'm sorry!" The voice instantly apologised as Hermione turned to face her guarding auror. A young woman had just entered the room, her eyes a deep stormy blue over a cut slicing the olive skin of her cheek. Her heart shaped face was framed by dark blonde hair, curling ever so gently about her jawline. She had a slight stocky build, which Hermione suspected was muscle, and a friendly smile.

"Don't be sorry, my fault" Hermione smiled, placing her bag by one of the chairs, "But yes, I'm Hermione Granger."

"Ava Brett," she replied, pulling out her wand and tapping the door handle. It rattled slightly, and Ava smiled, seemingly pleased with herself. It was now Hermione noticed a small sheathe like object attached to the wall by the door, her eyes narrowing with curiosity. Ava noticed her gaze, and gasped, slapping her hand to her mouth.

"I'm going to be honest with you Miss Granger, because Minister Shacklebolt said I could trust you to not be difficult." Ava began as Hermione looked confused, "I've only just passed all the schooling to be an auror; hence why I was assigned to guard you in this room, little chance of you giving me trouble. Usually, we take your wands before you enter, and they go in this case. Only an auror can take them out afterwards. I'll get in trouble if your wand isn't in there; it's really unusual to let you keep your wand, It only happened because…"

"I'm Hermione Granger," Hermione finished, pulling her wand out of her pocket and handing it to Ava, handle first. Ava looked relieved, and nodded, taking Hermione's wand and placing it carefully into the sheathe. Nothing happened to Hermione's chagrin, but Ava smiled once more obviously pleased.

"You'll get it back at the end of today, but there is no way you can go into the courtroom with your wand on you, just in case." Ava explained, and Hermione laughed pleasantly.

"I understand. So…chess?" She asked, even though she hated the game, but being in the tiny room made everything far too real. The idea of going into the trial to speak was making her entire being shake with nerves, and she desperately needed something to do with her hands. She studied Ava, who was setting up the board and smiled to herself, thinking that mindless chatting with one of Harry and Ron's future colleagues wouldn't be too bad either.

:: :: ::

The door to his cell opened, and with more of a rush than he'd anticipated, his arms were pinned behind his back by two of his guards.

"We're running a bit late, so play nice." An auror hissed at him, and the desperation in that hiss told Draco everything he needed to know. They weren't trying to make him look bad at his own trial; they actually were a bit late. He nodded slightly, enough for the auror to notice and leaned forward a minute amount, hoping they'd take the lead and drag him to his world's end.

The cell door stayed open, and another auror walked in with a tall legged wooden chair. Chains were attached, and it looked anything but comfortable.

"On," The new auror demanded, placing the chair down in front of Draco. He moved immediately, feeling his legs pinned into place by the shackles at his ankles. His arms were pinned to his sides, his elbows thankfully bent, and he rested his hands on the sides of his thighs. His fingers picked at the fabric of his trousers, as a chain went about his middle and chest, pinning him dead straight to the chair. Hands pulled up his shirts sleeves, and then rolled them so they wouldn't fall, and he gritted his teeth at the shame of it, thanking Merlin he didn't say anything.

"Ok, good, now just get him into place." The aurors said, and he found himself levitated, carefully rushed out of his cell. They brought him into a room that was large and circular with a small set of four dents on the floor. He fell with a thud, and the chair clicked with an unnatural sound that could not belong to wood and stone colliding. An auror to his left muttered something, his wand out and pointed at Draco, but his attention was on a pocket watch.

"Three; two and one." He muttered, as he tapped Draco on the shoulder.

The light was beyond bright.

It was as if a floodlight was placed in front of him only a foot away. He blinked, desperately trying to see where he now was. The room was silent save for the odd rustle of someone shifting their foot, and the scratching of a quill upon parchment.

"Mr Draco Lucius Malfoy; you will be under the effects of veritaserum throughout the trial." A voice from above said in an abnormally bored tone. Ice sliced through him, and he realised with a sickening jolt that his trial was starting. He couldn't disagree.

He looked up and realised he'd entered a circular room; seating began almost at once from the lone double doors he knew was behind him. The chairs rose high up to the ceiling, and the view to the top-most seats wasn't possible; as if Draco were seated in a theatre, and not a hall of justice. Opposite the doors was a slight balcony, a desk placed upon it; a woman with navy blue robes sat behind it, the grey in her hair so entwined with the fire red of her youth, that it was a soft peach colour that contrasted violently with the wrinkled stern face she wore, and the sharp hazel of her eyes. It was this woman he assumed had spoken, and a hang gripped his neck from behind. His eyes widened with shock. The auror behind him now cupped Draco's chin, tipping his head back until his mouth opened; her grip firm. She pulled a small phial out of her robes, and with her thumb, took out the stopper, tipping several drops of the liquid on to his tongue.

"You will confirm you are Draco Lucius Malfoy," Coppergrove spoke again as he moved his mouth, running his tongue about his teeth, as if savouring the taste.

"I am," he replied, his voice magically amplified with no magic from him.

"You will not use Occlumency throughout this trial. Any attempt to do so, and you will find the outcome of this trial most likely worse than it could have been. Understood?" She continued, in the same bored tone.

"Understood."

"You are here under the charges of attempted murder, aiding and abetting the dark wizard Voldemort, and the use of unforgivables. How do you plead?" Her tone was business like, and she'd barely looked up once from her podium, her quill in hand and ready. The one she'd charmed earlier scribbling away as the scribe to her right struggled to beat it. At the sound of Voldemort's name, so casually said, shocked whispers exploded. The murmurs almost welcome in the otherwise tense silence.

"Let us begin, the first evidence we shall see is from Mr Malfoy himself." She said, raising her hand and flicking her wrist to the two unspeakables by the door. He grumbled silently to himself as he felt the weight of the gazes of everybody in the room. Two people were moving behind him, shifting something into place. The heady tinge of magic seemed to skitter upon the floor, tickling the bottom of his feet. The gathered Wizengamot began to talk to each other quietly, their eyes on the movement behind him. Something cool began to muss his hair on his head, chilling the back of his neck, and he realised the pensieve was being modified again. A giant wall of liquid would show the memory evidence to the room, and he would be forced to watch.

He carefully schooled his face into an expression he hoped was dread and regret the moment he felt the chair move. He was going to have to watch everything people said for and against him. He refused to shift, no silly fidgeting, nothing that could be construed as not taking this Merlin forsaken event like a joke. He swallowed; his sandpaper like mouth so dry it pained him, his eyes dead set upon the silver surface in front of him.

An unspeakable began to feed a memory into the pensieve, and he tensed, bracing himself for the onslaught of his childhood.

The face of Lucius Malfoy shimmered on the surface of the pensieve; young and magnificent, he seemed to be peering down. Draco watched the pale blue eyes of the Malfoy patriarch glitter dangerously, determined to meet the gaze of a man now a shell of himself, a man that had ruined him.

"Draco," he said, "you are forgetting; you are far more special than anyone else. You're a wizard, a pure-blooded wizard at that. A true wizard Draco; and a Malfoy. Suggesting we ought to pity…muggles…it's laughable. Don't suggest that to me again." A woman's scream ripped through the memory from somewhere behind Lucius, and slightly out of view. Raucous masculine laughter overpowered the desperate shrieks as the memory fizzled out.

"The screams were from who Mr Malfoy?" Coppergrove's business like tones clipped the ear of everyone in the room back into their senses, her wand at the ready.

"I don't know her name, she was a muggle woman from one of the villages near my home, Father had friends over and she was the entertainment." He responded sounding ever so slightly strangled despite the lack of restraint about his neck.

"Next memory." Coppergrove said, as the scratching from her quill dropped, and the next memory began to form on the surface.

An onslaught of memories assaulted his senses, the timeline of his childhood displayed for them all to see, the shadow of regret as he watched himself growing steadily older burned in his chest, his father repeating the same things to him over and over. He was special. A wizard. A pure-blooded wizard. A Malfoy. The undertone to each memory an overwhelming feeling of regret and sorrow, things hushed up on the outskirts of Draco's hearing, only once in a while the sentiment would be heard. Disappointment that Voldemort had fallen to a young boy. Disappointment Draco would not watch when his father brought home a muggle. Disappointment that Lucius was forced to use 'crucio' on his only son and heir. Disappointment. He was special. Disappointment.

The memories kept coming, until he realised the halls of Hogwarts had become visible. The Slytherin common room was shown, the children of Death Eaters looking to him, expecting him to do something towards the 'mudbloods.' Then herself, and the Gryffindor Quidditch team and he knew what was about to happen.

He called her mudblood; and the team exploded. His head fell, the shame becoming unbearable, and powerful, too much to watch. The overwhelming flood of emotions swelled about everyone in the room and Coppergrove signalled a halt as the memory stopped.

"Explain this one to me." She ordered, and he swallowed.

"Miss Granger-,"

"Miss Hermione Jean Granger, Order of Merlin First Class?" Coppergrove interrupted as if to confirm who they were talking about.

"Yes, that one," he said, opening his mouth to continue, "She implied I had bought myself onto the team instead of getting on by pure talent. I did what was expected of me, I threw her the worst insult I knew. She confused me however. She didn't seem to know what it meant. It had to be explained to her. You saw how I was raised. That muggles were beyond inferior, that muggle-borns were only just as inferior, but beyond all of that; everyone was inferior to me. I expected her to know what it meant. I had been raised to believe that they knew that they were inferior to me and to other witches and wizards. She didn't. She hadn't a clue." He explained, as Coppergrove leant forward.

"Explain further. This evidence is rather damning of you otherwise." She said, unsympathetic, but the faint crease of incomprehension marred her features.

"Everything I was raised to believe began to be shattered at this point, even though it looks otherwise." He said his voice stronger as he began to almost plead with her to understand. "My father drilled into me that everyone would know they are below me. I am the best. She said I wasn't talented enough to get on the team without buying my way on. She was wrong. Yet I am surrounded by a group of people who have been brought up with me, and my family hammering it into them that they are below the Malfoy's, that they should just follow what we did. The whole blood purity thing was constant in this group, within Slytherin, at home, the company we kept. I was expected to despise muggle-borns by my family, and by the people who I was surrounded by at school. Right at this very moment they expected me to say something awful. She'd insulted me by implying I wasn't good at something; everybody knew the Malfoy's were the best at everything but…her, so I called her a mudblood. She didn't know what it meant. I was told by my father, by the people I was surrounded by that muggle-borns would know what it meant when I told them, that they'd learn their place when I told them that they were that word. She needed to have it explained to her. She confused me. If what my father had been saying was right, then she should have been in tears, not picking up her friend of the floor as he leapt to her defence." He finished, and the room was silent for a few moments as Coppergrove rustled parchments about her desk. The quill she'd charmed and her scribe both writing away as if nothing else in the world existed. Finally she found a piece of parchment with what appeared to be a list on it, and she ran her wand down the items until she found what she was looking for.

:: :: ::

Ava had just about pinned her into check as an odd hum broke the sound in the air.

"Miss Hermione Jean Granger, Order of Merlin First Class, please stand." A voice boomed in an authoritative tone Hermione had never quite encountered before. Ava looked at her, concern and surprise in her deep blue eyes.

Hermione felt the blood pool in her feet.

She rose, and Ava stood with her, striding to the door, her brand new auror's behaviour settling about her as the drill set in.

"Please take to the podium."


	8. Questions and Queries

She walked, slowly and carefully, her face impassive to the podium in the centre of the room. An auror had come to meet her, and his battle weary face gave her a comfortable smile, his hand outstretched in an offer of help. She took it, grateful for the help as he led her through the courtroom and up on to the podium. She looked at Malfoy briefly, meeting his pleading gaze with a tinge of sadness, she would not show him any hint of what she really felt. His desperate plea for her help had alarmed her, and her insides churned violently.

He looked wrecked.

His hair, usually carefully placed was falling into his eyes; his face was ghostly white. His sharp, pointed features made him look like a trapped artic fox; there was nowhere for him to escape too. His wintery eyes looked haunted, and his long elegant fingers were playing with the seams on his trousers. Chains were snaked about his arms, the forearms bare; the faintest trace of a skull and snake visible on his left. Hermione thought if it weren't for the almost blinding light that was on him, she wouldn't have seen it at all.

She placed her hands on the wooden rest about the podium, turning to thank the auror quietly before staring up at the stern Miranda Coppergrove.

"You are Miss Hermione Jean Granger, Order of Merlin First Class?" She asked the familiar business tone surprisingly comforting.

"I am, yes, Madam." She found herself replying, an inner bastion of strength keeping her back straight and her voice free of any wavering. It was a relief, to be able to appear as though she wouldn't rather fall through the floor.

"You are here as Mr Malfoy's defence." She stated, yet still expectantly waiting an answer. The lights from above felt as though the sun had moved just an inch above her, blinding and unbearably hot under the eyes of the room.

"Yes." She said, sure and almost challenging.

"I am sure you are aware that anything you say as evidence that is found to be perverting the course of justice will reflect badly on you, and you may find yourself with a criminal record. This noted, will you agree to the use of veritaserum?" Coppergrove said, bored and business like. Hermione wavered, feeling ever so slightly trapped, realising there was no way she could refuse.

"Yes."

"Only half a drop." Coppergrove said, not speaking to Hermione but the auror from earlier, waving her forward. Hermione opened her mouth obediently.

"The use of Occlumency will not help you either."

:: :: ::

His heart had begun to beat a tattoo in his chest, the ritual riot becoming painful as he supressed the panic and fear at her speaking. The time had come to define if she really were his defence or not, she'd found his eyes on the way down, her expression had been so completely blank he couldn't determine if it were a good thing or not. He squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for the words to come.

"Miss Granger, before attending Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry, had you ever heard the term 'Mudblood', before?" Coppergrove asked, those bored, straight-to-the-point tones as clear as day.

"No." Hermione replied, her own voice steady and expressive. Draco's heart continued to beat painfully as he struggled to determine if it were for or against him.

"Do you believe that Mr Malfoy actually believed he was superior to you in anyway when he called you a mudblood?"

Hermione was silent for a while, and the chairs in the room creaked as bodies leaned forward, straining to listen. Draco opened his eyes, staring at her, as Coppergrove raised an eyebrow; obviously not used to being made to wait for an answer. Hermione however was deep in thought, and as he checked Coppergrove's expression once more realised that she had noticed this, and was giving her time to think. She really was Amelia Bone's protégé.

"Yes…and no." Hermione began, and his heart fell with such a drop he almost vomited; "at first, I think he did believe it. I think that's exactly what he thought of me. Do I think he would mean it if he called me a mudblood now? No. Two years ago, when we were in fifth year? No. Three years ago, when we were in fourth year? Maybe, but I think it's always stemmed from jealousy. From what was expected from him. I don't think Malfoy has genuinely believed in what he's said since he was thirteen years old. I say this as one of his favourite bullying victims." She said, her answer thought out and so clear Draco's heart took to the skies again.

She really was his defence.

"How victimised have you been by Mr Malfoy?"

"If I am alone, he does not tend to bully me unless he is either irritated by something, or with friends. I don't believe he goes out of his way to find me to make me feel upset. If I am there, and he needs to…keep up appearances, then possibly, but it is not that bad. I don't think his heart is in it, or has been in it for a long time." Her voice was clear, and seemed to take on siren qualities as she sang the song of his freedom.

"When was the last time he called you a mudblood?"

"I can't remember." Her reply was almost instant, the veritaserum forcing the truth out of her faster than she could contain it. Draco stared at her, her hair, usually in soft waves and curls down her back was tied up in an elegant twist; a dark blue dress revealing her subtle curves to the world. She looked respectful, but clearly ready for business and as if she wished to be taken seriously. She was shaking, ever so slightly as she stood, the questioning clearly terrifying, yet here she was.

Defending him for reasons he couldn't fathom.

"You may leave until called to speak again Miss Granger." Coppergrove dismissed her, a thoughtful expression upon her wrinkled face as she stared Draco in the eye. He paled, and bowed his head to her respectfully, turning to watch the auror almost run to Hermione's side to lead her back to the door. He suppressed an eye-roll; Granger had a fan already.

"Thank you Madam," Hermione said, stepping down and taking the aurors arm kindly, her warm brown eyes flicked to Draco, and he looked back, drowning in the hopeful emotion she bathed him in.

"Continue the memories." Coppergrove said, as Hermione was ushered out the door.

:: :: ::

Ava collected her, studying her conflicted and confused expression seriously. She pressed her fingers to her lips, signifying she couldn't speak whilst outside the courtroom, and Hermione nodded, walking beside Ava in a comfortable silence. They walked past what seemed like only a few doors until slipping back inside their room; and Hermione sighed, the use of her voice seemingly comforting as if she hadn't been able to speak at all for weeks.

"All good?" Ava asked her, as she slumped into a chair.

"I don't think I was questioned about a memory I submitted," she admitted as Ava nodded, the tell-tale sign of her not being able to speak further slipping on to her features.

"At least it's underway, and you'll know the outcome soon." She tried to comfort, setting up the chessboard for another round.

:: :: ::

They stood about him, hoods up, masks on.

His own dining room had been turned into some kind of altar.

He was the sacrifice.

"Your arm Draco." The cold chilling voice of Voldemort demanded, his long twisted but somehow elegant fingers reaching forward.

"Draco." His father warned, as he made no move, a sneer developing on the snake like visage of Voldemort. Still he remained put, hoping, hoping with all he had that the deathly green light would come. A sudden; vice like grip, snapped about his forearm.

Voldemort's wand was stabbed onto his bare flesh.

The pain exploded in his skin. An itch. A burn. A rendering of his very being. He screamed twisting on the spot as Voldemort pinned his arm still. His laughter loud and echoing as his magic marred the pale white skin of the youngest Malfoy. He let go, and Draco panted, unwilling to look at his arm.

"Look Draco." Cooed Voldemort, an unrestrained cackle behind his lipless mouth. Draco remained staring, his eyes on his mother's distraught features.

"I said look." Voldemort hissed, fury bubbling on the surface, and Draco found himself turning his head and raising his arm. His skin was red; an angry black scrawl was beginning to sharpen into distinctive lines. A snake bursting from a skulls jaws.

The Dark Mark.

Bellatrix cackled, laughing hysterically.

"Cissy! Aren't you proud?" She cried delighted, throwing off her mask and running to embrace her sister as Voldemort turned to speak to Lucius.

"You fail me, and I take your family." He said dangerously as the memory faded.

Draco fought against the rising bile in his throat, the wish to vomit becoming uncontrollable. He gagged, and lost; vomit splattering his legs and the floor about him, dribbling down his chin as he retched.

"Disgusting," an unknown voice commented as someone languidly flicked their wrist, vanishing the stench and sight of his stomach from the room.

"Silence." Coppergrove shot, staring down at Draco with an intrigued hint in her hazel eyes. She waited a moment, determining the room was quiet enough and that Draco wasn't going to vomit again, spoke once more. "Explain to me what Voldemort meant by 'you fail me, and I take your family'." She said clearly, as if reading a piece of parchment.

Shakily, Draco began, the story of how his father had failed Voldemort in his fifth year spilling out of him like a dam had broken. The tale of how he never would have been a Death Eater if it weren't for his father being unable to take the prophecy from Harry Potter. He was being punished, and everything from that point on was with the aim he would fail; and be murdered by Voldemort, then the rest of his family. The room listened quietly, unsurprised and unmoved, and many he realised had been there at his father's trial. Listening to the Malfoy heir's point of view wouldn't be anything new.

Coppergrove spoke in that magnified voice once more and Draco started with horror.

His mother.

Of all the people he had expected to speak for him, his mother had been one of them, but now, the idea of her speaking in his defence humiliated him. He knew how she'd been stripped bare of everything that made her who she was in a room like this not even a week ago; now she'd come back to speak for him. To defend her pitiful son.

He waited in the moments it took for the aurors to ferry a witness to and from a point, with a building dread, his breathing increasing until he began to almost pant. The door opened, and Narcissa walked in, her back straight, a dignified air about her. Her pale blue eyes were sharp, but the faintest glimmer of nerves danced behind them. Unlike Hermione, she took to the podium as if she belonged to it, and stood waiting to be spoken too.

Coppergrove read her the same warnings as she had Hermione, and Draco found he was unable to tear his eyes off his mother. Veritaserum was applied, and Draco stopped breathing.

"Explain how your son came to have the Dark Mark." Coppergrove said in her familiar bored tones, barely looking at Narcissa as she dipped her quill in ink. Narcissa gasped, and tears welled up in her eyes, spilling down her cheeks before she even managed to speak. Yet speak she did.

Her voice was strong, clear and precise, the tears she shed unnoticeable if it weren't for the silver light they gave. She told of her husband's failure, and recounted the day; almost exactly to how they'd just seen. Coppergrove didn't react, but whispers spread like flies about the spectators.

"Silence." Coppergrove demanded again, peering down at Narcissa carefully. "Do you think your son would have become a Death Eater if he had his own choice." She continued, and the air became electric. Draco stiffened.

"No." Narcissa replied, her voice firm. "He never had it in him."

"You may leave." Coppergrove dismissed her, as Draco began to breathe slowly, amazed at his mother.

A memory was forming once more, his sixth year began to blur past his eyes, his focus wavering as he knew what was coming. His hardest years. He watched himself struggle. Watched the threats from his father arrive in the post. Watched his hand tremble as he cast the imperious over Madam Rosemerta. Watched as he sobbed after. He watched as he failed over and over. Forcing people to do things they didn't want to do. Watched as he lived in the Room of Requirement. He watched himself crumble. He was expecting them to stop, but it didn't. Seventh year rolled on, his entrapment in his own home. His experiences at Hogwarts now over run with Death Eaters. His feeling of being caged began to swarm him. He moaned quietly to himself, as the memories came to an end.

"Now for memories from Mr Harry James Potter." Coppergrove said, as his memories were removed from the pensieve. He braced himself, curiously wondering what Potter would have submitted.

His stomach dropped as his sixth year began to play again, only from Potter's point of view. He watched himself sneak about the castle, his visage frail and grey from stress. A jolt knocked him back into his senses as he realised there was no way he looked dangerous from this point of view. He looked desperate, afraid, and weak.

The astronomy tower began to appear, and Draco looked on in shock. He watched himself tremble as he pointed his wand at Dumbledore, and looked on as he almost took the offer of protection before the Death Eaters joined him. Then Snape killed Dumbledore. Once more, his head hung in shame.

"Explain why you did not kill Albus Dumbledore." Coppergrove said immediately.

"I can't. I'm not a killer." Draco admitted, his voice quiet, a crack seeping into the edges of his voice. Her magnified voice boomed once more, and he knew who was coming this time.

Harry Potter walked into the courtroom to audible gasps and rounds of applause, the outburst of talking almost thunderous in a once quiet room.

"Silence." Coppergrove demanded as Harry took to the podium, not even once looking at Draco.

"You are Mr Harry James Potter, Order of Merlin First Class?" She asked, almost seeming kind when Harry was on the podium, her attitude slipping. To his shock, Harry sighed, and pushed back his fringe, revealing his scar. He would have snorted with laughter if this wasn't his trial; but the worn, almost humiliated expression on Potter's face sobered him up as Coppergrove read the same things to Harry as she had to his mother and Hermione – with the exception of Veritaserum.

"Do you think Mr Malfoy would have succeeded in killing Albus Dumbledore?" She asked him, an almost interested tone coming out of her mouth.

"No." Harry replied, straight to the point.

"Why?"

"He's capable. Could have done it with the ways he tried, the necklace, poisoned mead. I just don't think his heart was truly in it. Especially after…"

"After what."

"The astronomy tower. If he was going to do it, he would have done it, that's how killers behave. You have to mean it."

Harry sounded clinical, and his words brought back the howling screams of Bellatrix as she taught him the unforgivable. '_You have to mean it Draco!_' she screeched in his head, as he fought to keep himself in the present.

"You don't think he meant it."

"No."

"Do you think Mr Malfoy would have taken the offer of protection Dumbledore was offering if he had the time."

"Yes. Even though that would have been hard for him."

"Hard for him how?"

"He would be abandoning everything he knew, to join people he had bullied. I don't think he would have had a welcome reception from any of us, but we would have kept him safe."

"You may leave Mr Potter."

Harry left, this time giving a slight nod to Draco as he turned to the door, the action heartened him somehow. The first, begrudging seeds of respect settled in the base of Draco's spine for Harry, realising that if the tables were turned, he might not be here for him. Nor would have speaking in his defence have been easy.

The door clicked shut, and Coppergrove continued, her magnified voice booming once more.

Ollivander had been summoned.

"We have a short statement from Mr Ollivander to hear, and then we shall break for lunch," Coppergrove spoke, almost pleasantly, as an auror left the room, presumably to tell the others of her wishes.

He hadn't known about this one, and Draco paled again, wishing he could be anywhere but here. A lifetime seemed to pass in silence. Complete silence. He knew Ollivander would take some time in reaching the courtroom, but this stretch of time seemed to be an eternity. Finally, the door opened, and Ollivander hobbled to the podium with the aid of two aurors. He looked like he'd aged a hundred years in a day. He leaned heavily on the two burly men guiding him to the podium, his hair whiter than the purest slab of marble, his skin full of wrinkles so deep Draco thought they could lead to an abyss. His eyes were haunted, but that odd sparkle of his own brand of wisdom flared as he sighted Draco in chains. Draco blinked, wishing himself to smother his fear, and look back with some semblance of dignity. Coppergrove was already speaking as he held himself up on the wooden support. His rights were read, and he agreed.

"What is it you wish to add to this trial Mr Ollivander?" Coppergrove asked kindly, respect dripping from every word she spoke.

"Mr Malfoy's wand is Hawthorn, with Unicorn tail core. Unicorn tail wands are notoriously difficult to turn to Dark Magic. You would have to really mean it to manage a sufficiently strong enough spell of the Dark Arts." He said, as if that was all he had come here to say, knowing Ollivander, it probably was. Despite being held within his families wine cellars the past few months.

"Thank you, you may go back to 's now." Coppergrove said gently, as Ollivander left at the slow pace he had arrived in and Draco reeled. His appearance had probably been planned carefully. She'd asked him what he'd wanted to add to the trial, not how he was standing. Ollivander's appearance was the greatest mystery. The fact he had chosen to say that of all things confused him. His wands core wasn't something he'd expected to come into the fray; and what did it mean? Was Ollivander for or against?

The members in the room had begun to stand up, shuffling away, talking amongst themselves. A tap on his shoulder shocked him, and he found himself in the empty room he was in before. He blinked, several times, and ignored the aurors swarming about him releasing him from the chair; dragging him into his cell. He couldn't pay them any attention; they were just doing their jobs, his trial was far too important to mess it up by hounding the ones set to guard him. A plate of sandwiches had appeared, and Draco began to eat them slowly, mulling his future over with a stunned and far away gleam in his eyes.

:: :: ::

An hours lunch break had been announced, and Ava had stood at the news, ordering them a feast fit for a king Hermione thought, as she summoned a table. Moments later, a massive pile of sandwiches and various picnic foods had appeared on her brand new furniture, and Ava had dived in almost like Ron. Hermione picked up a sandwich that looked to contain some salad in it at least, and dug in, relaxing in her chair more now that she knew roughly what time of day it was.

"So tell me about this guy," Ava said, striking up a new conversation, a devious look on her face. "You seem to be distant, thinking about something, or someone – I don't think it's this trial taking up all your thoughts."

Hermione started, looking at the friendly sparkle in Ava's eyes with suspicion and curiosity. She'd been thinking about Draco, hoping that whatever happened would mean his freedom, feeling like he deserved a second chance at life. Why he'd been in her mind so much, she couldn't quite figure out; but the idea of him set butterflies fluttering for some reason. She opened her mouth, as if to speak, but not quite finding the words to say.

"He's a complete dick," she began, and Ava's eyebrows rose; the beginnings of a smirk starting on her face. "He's inconsiderate, thinks of nobody but himself, he's spiteful, nasty and an overgrown child. Only…lately…he's started to; be on my mind all the time. He's not behaving in a way I'd expect. He's almost…bearable." Hermione conceded, as Ava snorted back a laugh.

"So you like the bad guys."

"I…" she attempted to respond, as a curious thought slipped into the back of her head. Did she have the start of a crush on Draco Malfoy?

:: :: ::

The hour went faster than Draco could have handled, and he soon found himself shepherded into the wooden chair again, only this time he could have sworn the aurors were slightly gentle with him; as if they knew he wouldn't fight. The blinding lights had returned, and so had the onslaught of memories.

Another memory came into view as Draco inwardly battled his thoughts, and he realised with a shock that this one must be from Hermione; only he hadn't heard her be announced. It had to be her.

She was looking up at him from the floor of his mansion. He looked back at her. Disgusted. Afraid. Distraught. The tight white grip of his father puncturing the flesh of his shoulder.

He did nothing.

Her screams echoed, rebounding off the walls of the courtroom, drumming itself into his bones. He gritted his teeth, and breathed in roughly.

The memory faded, and Draco squeezed his eyes shut, trying to get the vision of himself pretending to be dignified as she screeched on the floor of his home out of his head. The room was completely void of any noise at all. No one fidgeted. No one dared to breathe. He could feel the eyes on him pin him to the floor; as if his restraints didn't exist. He'd never been more scrutinised in his life.

Of all the memories he'd expected to see, that one was not it. That memory didn't seem to belong. Not as defence. Betrayal boiled his insides raw.

:: :: ::

The booming voice of Coppergrove entered the waiting room in which Hermione was currently playing the third game of chess with Ava. They'd been chatting amicably, Ava had been eager to learn about Harry and Ron as they'd be her future work mates, and Hermione had been happy to comply. They'd struck up a tentative friendship; Ava seeming genuinely disappointed that Hermione wouldn't be joining her as an auror sometime in the future.

As Hermione was announced once more, they both stood; Hermione with a sense of foreboding that she knew what memory was to be discussed this time.

"Come," Ava said, guiding her to the door, walking quietly beside her back to the oak double doors. She tapped her knuckles upon the door; and it opened, whisking Hermione away to discuss her torture.

:: :: ::

She was back, her elegant figure striding into the room with the rosiness of her cheeks slipping from the surface of her skin with each step she took. Her auror lap-dog by her side, eagerly helping her up a single step on to the podium. Again, she thanked him politely, despite her lips betraying the slight hint of irritation at his gesture.

"Miss Granger," Coppergrove began in those bored, clear tones, "you are Mr Malfoy's defence, are you not?"

"Yes."

"Then you will need to explain to the court why the memory submitted shows yourself clearly being tortured, and Mr Malfoy doing nothing about it." Coppergrove sounded slightly mad, as if she had been betrayed, lied too, just as Draco struggled to keep his rage from burning him up inside out.

"I think it was the one memory I had that showed his situation perfectly. Did it look to you like he wanted to be there, like he wanted to join in, was he watching it eagerly? To me, he looked like he wanted to be anywhere else but there; he couldn't leave, he had his father holding him in place. If he had done something, he'd have been killed. I don't think Mr Malfoy has ever been in any situation where he could consider himself to have been safe throughout the war. I think given the chance he would have remained neutral in the war. Or; maybe, and this is a long shot, join the Order." Hermione spoke, clean and clear, almost willing for her to see her point.

"I would have." Draco found the words leaving his mouth before he knew what he was doing, the uncontrolled words tumbling into a deafening silence.

"Explain," Coppergrove demanded, as she peered forward, seemingly forgetting Hermione.

"I would have joined the Order, if…Snape hadn't…"

"Understood." She turned her gaze back to Hermione, narrowing her sharp hazel eyes slightly, "Why are you here as Mr Malfoy's defence."

It was a statement neither of them expected, and Hermione jumped slightly, before returning the gaze with her own steely glint.

"I'm here because despite him bullying me, despite him being a literal nightmare for me, I don't think he has ever had a chance to be himself. I think he needs time to discover who he really is. If that's a blood-purist bastard; then he'll find himself in Azkaban before long. If it's someone who could do some good in this world, which I think Malfoy is capable of, even if he isn't aware of it, then he needs to find it out."

Those words again. The ones she'd said at the press conference. The ones he'd read in the prophet.

Maybe she was right.

"Understood, you may leave Miss Granger."

Hermione nodded, and the sound of her footsteps leaving was the only noise in the room for a while, as the Wizengamot looked at each other; curious expressions on their faces, and Coppergrove stared at him, twisting her mouth about. She seemed to be mulling her words over, but she pulled a piece of parchment from one of the stacks, and looked at it, her eyebrows rising in surprise.

"You have only one person willing to speak as your prosecutor. They have a statement here. You have had seven people submit memories on behalf of your defence. A further three people submitted statements, and Mr Ollivander simply wished to add to the trial. Your case is…most unusual Mr Malfoy." Coppergrove mused aloud, as the Wizengamot shifted in their seats, as if anxious about something.

"I shall read the statement now, so that we have heard from both sides of the argument before we question you." She continued, as she shuffled her parchments about and Draco wondered desperately as to whom it would be hoping for his incarceration. It had to be Weasel-King, the other members of the Golden Trio had spoken, but not him.

"The statement of one Miss Millicent Bulstrode." Coppergrove interrupted his thoughts, and he started with shock. A member of his own house, not a Weasley! His eyes narrowed, as Coppergrove in her clear speech began to read the statement, telling of all her encounters with him in the Slytherin common room. How he boasted, bullied and bragged. How he ranted, raved and rambled on about his dislike of the Golden Trio. How he treated his equals like his inferiors. How he treated everyone. How deep down, being locked away would be good for Draco, because he was just too awful to be around people. The statement came to a close, and Draco reeled. Panic beginning to bubble up once more.

"I have a question for Mr Malfoy," A different voice spoke clearly, his arm in the air, his strong voice giving away to the first tremors of age.

"Ask it," Coppergrove agreed, gesturing towards Malfoy in a permissible way.

"What side would you have joined in the war Mr Malfoy, in your own words. What side did you agree with?" The question was asinine, he thought, as he mulled the question over in his head.

"Neither, I wanted to be neutral."

"Neutral doesn't look good for you. You said earlier that you'd join the Order if you had the chance."

"Yes, for my mother's protection, for my own protection. Not actually join it. Some things are too ingrained you understand. I don't like Potter, I don't like the Weasley family, I don't…like Granger. I respected Dumbledore, even though I said he was past it, and a lunatic. He wasn't. I never wanted to be a Death Eater, but I never wanted to be part of the Order either."

"Do you believe in the ideals of blood-purity?" Another person asked, the moment he had stopped speaking, and Draco reasoned they would be attempting to switch subjects, fast. Give him no time to think, to slip up. To condemn himself.

"I don't know." He replied, and the honesty burnt him.

"You don't know?"

"I don't know, I was supposed to be the best! I'm a Malfoy! I'm a pure-blooded wizard! Then Hogwarts happens and I'm bested in all classes by a muggle-born. I'm not as good of a flier as a half-blood. I'm not as famous as a half-blood…I don't know anymore." He spat, his insides quivering with the effort of admitting humiliating things.

"If you wanted to be neutral, why did you become a Death Eater?"

"Because there was a lot of choice involved in that one. I'd have died if I said yes, died if I said no. I like being alive." He retorted, feeling the sarcasm build. The Wizangamot shifted, muttering to each other, unimpressed with the answer. "I was supposed to never be involved in this war. It was my father's fight. Not mine. You saw how all choice was removed from me. You saw my memory of my Dark Mark. You think I asked for that? I wanted nothing to do with the war!" He almost shouted, his voice raised and irritated, desperate. He strained against his chains, leaning out of the light to look at their faces; pleading mentally with them.

The questions kept coming, some inane, some in depth. Who he had fought with during the final battle? Why had he been there? What had he done? Did he try to protect anyone? Did he feel loss over his friend Crabbe? Would he be friends with Potter now if given the chance? Would he elaborate on why he didn't do anything during the torture of Miss Granger?

He answered them all, angrily, desperately, sorrowfully. His mind burned, and he could feel himself falling into the depths of insanity. He could be free. If only he could persuade them.

"The Wizengamot would like to vote." A man finally petitioned Coppergrove, and she nodded, as Draco drew in a ragged breath.

"All in favour to press charges?" She asked, watching the Wizengamot carefully, and a few hands rose, their faces angry, spiteful; and Draco assumed they must be friends of his fathers.

"All in favour to drop the charges?" The majority of hands rose, and Draco stopped breathing.

"It seems you are a spiteful boy who has grown up being as vile to those around you as you could. I hope you listened to Miss Granger earlier. Should you find yourself arrested, in the next two years you will go straight to Azkaban for ten years, no more no less. You will pay one million galleons to each Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, the Ministry of Magic, and St Mungo's in reparations. You will also be released back to Hogwarts; as the current Headmistess has agreed to allow you to return for schooling. Consider yourself lucky Mr Malfoy." Coppergrove said, and closed the court.

He was free.

He sobbed.


	9. Friends and Family

"Ron, you are being ridiculous!" Hermione snapped, yanking back her book with an unexpected strength, "just leave me alone! Please!" She'd been sitting under a tree in the Burrow's back garden, a blanket beneath her, with a drink and some snack food; reading up on defensive spells that Harry and Ron would be learning in their auror training, figuring she would end up having to know them anyway. It was a lovely day, warm with a pleasant breeze, with hardly a cloud in sight. She'd been able to sit and read for all of ten minutes before Ron began to bother her. It was when he'd reached down and dragged the book out of her hands that her temper had been set alight.

"But-"

"No, no buts, no nothing, just let me read. It's all I want to do, enjoy the sun, watch you; Harry and Ginny play quidditch or whatever, and read. Have I been able to? No. Because you've followed me about; harassing me. You know I hate flying. I'm not getting on a broom with you. The room of requirement was a life or death situation. Not one I'm happy to repeat. No." She said, exasperated and worn, fingering a ripped page with a sorrowful expression.

"Just one go." Ron tried again, holding his broom with a lop-sided grin that Hermione had once found attractive, and now she found irritating. She slammed her book shut, and got to her feet, storming into the Burrow and stamping up the stairs, into the room she shared with Ginny. Light, but deft footsteps followed her; the angry voice of Ginny Weasley yelling at her brother as she slipped into the room; suddenly gentle and sympathetic.

"Sorry Hermione," she started, falling on to her bed beside Hermione, and putting a friendly arm about her shoulders.

"Oh it's not your fault, it's not your fault for any of this, and you've been wonderful. He's just becoming so difficult for me to be with around the Burrow. Constantly on my heels, begging me for a chance, or asking me about Malfoy of all people, he's obsessed with the day of Tonk's and Lupin's funeral. He's becoming…"

"I know." Ginny stated gently, pulling her best friend into an embrace, "I don't like that I won't be able to call you my sister in full; but I understand why you can't be with Ron. You've said your reasons and…I understand. I didn't realise all the risk involved; and as much as I really hate to say it…you need someone brighter than you, or as clever as you. Not someone you'll have to baby." She winced, feeling guilty it was her own brother she was talking about in such a way. Hermione chuckled slightly, grateful for the friendship of the youngest Weasley. "No matter what, no matter who you're with, I'll always be your friend."

"Even if Ron is right, and I do actually harbour a huge crush on Malfoy?" Hermione giggled, as part of her nagged that it might be the truth. Ginny snorted, before screeching with laughter, her head thrown back with her mirth.

"Even If you're with Malfoy, but boy would that take some getting used too!" They laughed, chatting in a sisterly manner as a knock at the door interrupted them both.

"Hermione," Ron began, and Hermione's rage flared again. She threw an apologetic look to Ginny, mouthing that she'd be at Andromeda's before throwing the door open. She pushed past Ron, who looked astounded, his blue eyes straining with confusion, and almost ran to the fire place. She picked up a pinch of floo powder, throwing it into the hearth as Ginny reached the bottom of the stairs, her expression sad; but understanding.

"Sorry Gin, I'll see you later; I just can't…be here right now." She explained, as Ginny waved her off, forcibly blocking Ron from coming down the stairs.

"Later Hermione," she called, as the fireplace roared and ripped her away.

:: :: ::

"Oh!" Andromeda exclaimed, spilling her tea down her as she jumped, pulling away from the fireplace as Hermione stepped out of it. "Hermione dear!" She exclaimed, deftly waving her wand and removing the tea, rushing to greet her unexpected guest.

Draco's eyebrows rose as he heard the commotion from the garden, he walked in to the kitchen, with his young cousin within his arms, squirming with unbridled energy. He glanced down at the child, checking his shirt hadn't been mussed with the kid's dribble, and leaning against one of the counters. He heard a familiar voice begin apologising profusely, the placid tones of his mother commenting drily on people just 'dropping in unannounced'.

"I can leave," she said, not rudely, but plainly aware that she had been interrupting. The voice was too familiar, and surprise rose in his chest, but somehow mingled with delight. It had been two weeks since his trial; and he hadn't laid eyes on her since, Hogwarts had been boring without her. HE pushed himself off the kitchen counter, taking a languid stride towards the living room.

"Don't be ridiculous Hermione; stay as long as you want, but…" Andromeda's voice trailed off, as Draco walked into the sitting room, deciding that eaves dropping was getting old. He looked at her, partially relieved and amused at her arrival; she looked like she was on the verge of tears, and ever so slightly desperate.

"Help me with this." He said drily, holding out Teddy as if it were a rampaging bludger he wished to get away from. His eyes locked on to Hermione's as he said it, as the unknown desire to spend some time with her bubbled up under his skin. They stared at each other; Draco drinking in Hermione's appearance in what he hoped wasn't an obvious manner. She was in jeans and a simple t-shirt, her hair wrapped up in a messy knot on the top of her head. A pair of sandals placed on her feet, revealing toes with a surprisingly elegant pedicure upon them. Her presence at his trial had intrigued him, and part of him believed it was thanks to her words that he now ran free, though he'd be loath to admit it. Andromeda started slightly, as if she were to help as Narcissa sighed, placing down her tea up with an exasperated action. Hermione stared back, pressing her lips together in what Draco recognised as thought, at least she was considering.

"Yes," She said finally, out of nowhere, and both Andromeda and Narcissa turned to look at her with confused expressions, "it wouldn't be fair on Teddy if everybody in his life were on two sides of the fence. He can't grow up like that, even if you believe in the blood purity stuff, he doesn't deserve to see it. So yes, I will help you with Teddy…Draco." She explained, tacking on his name as an afterthought and a strange thrill went through him as she said it. Andromeda gasped, and tears welled up in her eyes as she reached to squeeze Hermione's hand, forgetting that her nephew was holding her grandson in an abominable way.

"Thank you," Andromeda whispered, staring at Hermione with respect and adoration, a look that Hermione effortlessly returned, ignoring Narcissa's shocked expression as she out right stared. Andromeda turned to her sister, registering her features and sighed, coming to sit beside her once more as she allowed Hermione to walk to Draco.

"You have blocked a lot out of your life Cissy," Andromeda smiled, as Hermione walked around the sofa to where Draco was, carefully watching him. Something he couldn't quite blame her for, given all their past interactions.

"Garden," He said gruffly, watching her approach and nodding his head in the direction he came from, she nodded in reply, holding her hands out for the youngster. Draco complied, handing over his cousin gratefully, and watched fascinated as Hermione maneuvered Teddy in her arms as if it was the most natural thing in the world. They walked into the sun together, and Hermione sighed in delight, closing her eyes and tipping her chin upwards to bathe her skin in the warmth. A small smile split across her face, and Draco watched her curiously, turning to sit on a bench.

Teddy cooed, and she looked down at him, smiling brightly. He waved his fingers at her, and she waved hers back; instantly teaching him something called the 'royal wave', and laughed when Teddy continued to waggle his tiny digits. She wandered over to join him, and Draco shifted on the bench to make room.

"Thanks."

"Not a problem." He replied, watching her out of the corner of her eyes. The tense expression she had held earlier upon her unexpected arrival had slipped. She seemed to be relaxing, almost happy; the tears that had threatened to spill retreated. The desire to ask her what had upset her seemed uncontrollable, and he began to wring his fingers, staring intently at Teddy.

"Thank you." He found himself saying, and Hermione's brow rose questioning, as she opened a chocolate brown eye to peer at him.

"For what?" She asked both eyes on him now, her gaze quizzical.

"Being at my trial, defence, letting me…go back to Hogwarts." He told her, unable to look her in the eye, his cheeks colouring slightly. Hermione laughed slightly, moving Teddy in her arms as he looked to fall asleep.

"Don't be silly, anyone would have done it."

"No. They wouldn't. You know that." He responded instantly, slightly annoyed by her reply. Her lips twisted, and she looked disappointed.

"Let's not fight when we're about Teddy; any other time is free game, but not in front of Teddy." She said, flicking her eyes over to the window where Andromeda and Narcissa sat deep in conversation; both seemed to be sobbing. "Us…getting along when we are around Teddy would make Andromeda happy, and by extension, probably your mother happy too. I am also not in the mood for another fight." She admitted, as Draco tipped his head at her in confusion.

"Another fight?" he asked, the question falling out of his mouth before he could stop it. She sighed, her chest rising dramatically, and she turned to look at him, really look at him. Her gaze was searching, oddly probing, and Draco began to feel slightly naked about her before she relaxed again.

"Ron." She admitted eventually, and Draco nodded, finding that that was all he needed to know.

:: :: ::

She smiled absently, pleased that she hadn't needed to go into any more detail, and that he hadn't pressed the matter further. Teddy had fallen asleep in her arms, his hair returning to its turquoise instead of her mahogany hues. Draco shifted slightly, and she looked over to find him peering at Teddy, his brows raised in surprise.

"He's a metamorphagus like his mother," she smiled, as Draco looked at her astonished.

"He was blonde earlier!"

"Yes, your hair colour, and then he went my hair colour. He hasn't quite managed to do anything else yet; but he acknowledges who is holding him by the colour of his hair." She explained, gently smoothing his teal fluff carefully.

"Can…can I hold him again?" Draco asked, almost afraid she would say no. His eyes were wide, and Hermione had never really realised just how pale and silver his eyes actually were. There was only a single touch of icy blue with in them, but Hermione had never seen such expressive eyes before; and she laughed quietly, moving to hand Teddy over.

He smiled, ever so slightly turning the corners of his mouth upwards, an action that intrigued Hermione; as she realised she hadn't ever seen Draco truly smile. She had seen him in the grips of mirth, and smile mocking grins, but never a smile of true happiness; one that hadn't come about from someone else's pain. He now sat, his pale arms out, covered by shirt sleeves waiting for his cousin expectantly. Carefully, Hermione moved, handing the sleeping infant over so slowly as to not jar him awake.

Draco's arms brushed the sides of her hands, and she cursed the existence of his shirt sleeves, wishing to discover how his skin felt. His long, elegant fingers wrapped about Teddy gently, pulling the child to him as Hermione gasped.

"What!" He exclaimed looking at her worriedly as Hermione's eyes glued themselves to Teddy's head.

"Have you not been supporting his head?"

"What?" he asked this time, his brows coming together as the understanding of her sentence evaded him.

"You know nothing about babies do you." She stated looking at him with an amused sparkle in her eye as her hands went up to Teddy's head, cradling it within her palm.

"No," he admitted begrudgingly, admiring as Hermione carefully moved both his arm and the baby's head so that Teddy now rested upon his arm like a pillow.

"A child's head must be supported," she smiled, now leaning back on the bench and closing her eyes; soaking in the sun.

They remained in the garden for a while longer, Andromeda had come to collect Teddy after a while to feed him, and so that Narcissa could tentatively begin to bond with him. She remained sitting next to him, bathed in the golden hues of sunlight, and the warmth it drenched upon them both. They didn't speak, but sat, in amicable silence next to one another, and for the first time in years Hermione felt fully at peace. The time slipped by, and eventually, Hermione admitted she would probably have to leave. She stood, turning to wish Draco goodbye, only to find his eyes locked onto her, his arm thrown over the benches back with careless abandon.

"Leaving Granger?" he drawled, before Hermione had a chance to say anything.

"I think I've calmed enough, and…I ought to go back to the Weasley's…" she said, as Draco looked like he was struggling to not shoot a retort at her.

"Enjoy winding the Weasel-King up." He eventually replied, and a small smile escaped Hermione before she could stop it.

"That's your job," she retorted, turning to walk into the house to wish Andromeda care before she left. Draco smirked, watching her leave, his eyes burning two pleasant holes on the back of her neck.

"See you at Hogwarts Granger." He called as she vanished through the door way, and his words left a warm feeling in the pit of Hermione's stomach, an eagerness to return to Hogwarts building for a reason she didn't want to admit.

:: :: ::

She vanished through the door; the bright sun not allowing him to watch her elegant figure move away from him any further. Her voice carried through the house, the summer breeze taking her dulcet tones towards him, and he savoured those last few moments of her presence. A feeling that had begun to grow on him since discovering she was due at his trial. She fascinated him. His envy had shrunk, his wounded pride vanished; and now the burning flame of curiosity had ignited in the pit of his stomach. She wasn't what he had expected.

As the crack of her apparition assaulted his ears, a cold, dreadful loneliness sunk into Draco's bones, and he shifted in the seat uncomfortably, hating the sun for suddenly being so cold.

:: :: ::

"Hermione! Oh, thank goodness you're back, you've had…owls dear." Molly greeted her the moment she snapped back into the kitchen of the Burrow. The matriarch's messy mop of crimson looked more hair brained than ever, and Errol, the hard working Weasley owl looked disgruntled as Ginny caught her eye behind her mother's shoulder.

"Owls?" Hermione questioned, as George bellowed with laughter from the stairs, his mirth becoming infectious as Ginny began to giggle hysterically.

"More than just owls! You've had hundreds of them! You missed the commotion! I've never seen anything like it. Even the Hogwarts post wasn't like this!" George hooted, walking over to Hermione and slapping his hands on her shoulders amicably. He turned her, pushing her gently up the stairs towards Ginny's room as his sister ran to follow, tears of laughter now streaming down her face as Molly admonished them both.

"It's not funny! You'd both do well to be more like Hermione!" She chastised as George pushed the door to Ginny's room open, bowing with a flourish and an over exaggerated gesture to the room's interior.

Books covered the floor. The beds. The flat surfaces of Ginny's furniture. They spilled out of trunks. Teetered on the wardrobe. Piled up on the windowsill. Light was completely blocked from the windows, as books of every size took up the room. A small, painfully awkward looking path way allowed Hermione to tentatively step into the room. She lost all sense of time and space as she peered lovingly at the bound books in the room, tracing her fingers over the engraved titles, and breathing in the deep smell of books.

"Your order came from Flourish and Blotts'" Ginny sniggered, a mischievous sparkle in her warm brown eyes.

"Did it really?" George asked her, turning to his sister with feigned amazement.

"You know, I think it might have, it was only a book after all." Ginny replied in her deadpanned tones.

"Just one? Never would have thought that of our Hermione." George mocked as he grinned at Hermione, walking back down the stairs towards his mother who was throwing him unimpressed glances.

"This came too," Ginny said, handing Hermione a roll of parchment that would have been lost in the new library room of the Burrow. Hermione started, jumping out of her adoring gaze and looking to Ginny in surprise.

"Thanks," she smiled, before feeling slightly guilty, "I ought to get all of this to Hogwarts, considering I'm allowed to live there for the time being; we both need this room too! You more than I!"

"It would help!" Ginny laughed, stepping carefully into the room behind Hermione, "How did you want to move them? House-elf? Don't turn your nose up, I know you've used one before to give Harry that portrait!" she accused, staring at the books with a slight amazement. Hermione cringed a little, hoping Ginny hadn't seen; before sighing.

"I suppose it's the best way. Grab three books, any three, and I'll call for Kreacher." She told her friend, grabbing three books herself as Kreacher popped down behind Ginny.

"Kreacher, can you take all these books to Hermione's dormitory in Hogwarts?" Ginny asked the house-elf, hoping that the creature would respond to her in the way he did for Harry. The old elf gave her a worn expression, eyeing her with displeasure before snapping his fingers twice and vanishing; the books with him.

"Well. That's sorted then." Hermione sighed, as Ginny looked mildly upset at the house-elf's rejection of her. "I suppose I better start reading up on how to fix Hogwarts." She decided aloud as Ginny tapped the scrolls of parchment she'd handed Hermione earlier.

"Letters first," she admonished, turning to leave as Harry's voice came up from the kitchen. Hermione grinned, completely forgetting she'd had letters as well as books if Ginny hadn't reminded her. She unrolled the first one, a short note from Flourish and Blott's stating how delighted they were she had chosen to shop with them, and had given her the entire order for half the price as she was Hermione Granger. She giggled to herself, unfurling the next note, and a handwriting she'd seen before but couldn't quite place began to niggle at her.

_Hermione_, the excited, loopy scrawl had written.

_I know this is a little unexpected, but as Padma and I have received letters welcoming us back to Hogwarts, I've written to everyone in our year to see who will be returning. Padma and I will be going back for our eighth year, and I would love to know if you are coming back. Especially as you are my fellow Gryffindor; despite us never really getting to know one another. _

_If you're coming back, it would be good if we could become friends rather than aquaintances this year. If you're not (as I have heard Harry and Ron are in Auror jobs now, and thought you may be joining them), I'd like it if we could stay in touch. _

_All the best and I hope to see you soon, _

_Parvarti_

_Xox_

Hermione read it in a sad, sympathetic silence. Guilt rioting beneath the surface of her being. Parvarti was reaching out for new friends, as Lavender had been mauled by Greyback. She swallowed, forcing the tears that threatened to spill back, before considering Parvarti's offer of friendship.

She didn't have anything against the girl, only considered her slightly empty-headed and couldn't understand why Lavender and herself had discovered such a love for Divination; hailing Trelawney like a long lost goddess. Hermione sighed, realising that Parvarti was just a woman who spent more time on things like looks than books. She wasn't unkind, and had never given Hermione a real reason to dislike her. Of all things, this reaching out to her must have been hard for Parvarti, given how different they were. She smiled a shaky smile, and wrote a short reply back on a little scrap of parchment. She encouraged Parvarti to keep in contact over the summer, and confirmed that she'd be returning to Hogwarts. A short after note she'd written in saying she'd like it if Parvarti could help her with her hair, and sent it off with the owl that had perched on the outside ledge, waiting for her response. If she was going to bond with Parvati or at least attempt it, stepping into her world couldn't be the worst thing that was going to happen.

The last roll of parchment unfurled slowly. The Hogwarts crest appearing almost immediately, but this was a handwriting she wasn't familiar with again.

_Dear Miss Granger, _

_I am writing to you with every hope I can muster that you will find it in your heart to help. _

_You are the only student I can think of who has looked after the library and its contents with the rightful amount of respect that it deserves. I have never come across a piece of graffiti in your hand, on either table or book you have borrowed. You have returned all books on time, and have always been polite. It is with this in mind I ask you, as someone who knows the library almost as well as I do, if you could spare the time to help me put it back together after the war. _

_I simply cannot do it all by myself, and I am needed elsewhere in the castle to help there, but the library is an integral part of the school. _

_Please let me know as soon as you are able, _

_Yours sincerely,_

_Irma Pince_

Hermione read the letter with pride, which her actions had led to this letter being written, was the best testimony she felt she had to her person, besides the Order of Merlin First Class. She smiled with delight, before looking down at the letter once more. It was very lacking in actual information, it pulled to her character, but didn't tell her what she'd do. She frowned, staring at the letter in slight annoyance. She could understand the library needing to be repaired, and placed back together, but what was it she needed help with. Everything? She chewed her lip, feeling like she was unable to reply as Ginny knocked on her door.

"I know this is my room and everything, but are you ok? You look troubled." Ginny asked, stepping into her room with a look of concern.

"Madam Pince has asked me to help her with the library, it's been damaged and she can't do it all by herself."

"That's wonderful! Are you going to go help?"

"I don't know, I mean…I'm torn; I've just had all the books come to help read up on how Hogwarts was built so we can put that together, now this, and Ron and…" a pale, blond haired man flittered across her vision for the briefest instant, and she trailed off; sighing with confusion and pleasure at his coming to the forefront of her mind.

"I get what you're saying Hermione, but does the letter mean you have to be there seven days a week? Doing it will help get your mind off things. Ron won't be able to come chase you and harass you, and you'll actually be at Hogwarts putting it together. Fixing the walls isn't your responsibility; it's McGonagall's. It's great you want to help that way; and trust me, so do I, but…that isn't your job. If you want to help, do what you can." Ginny persuaded, looking at her with her big brown eyes that seemed to fill with concern. "Don't take on too much, but don't do anything when you so obviously want to help." She finished, as Hermione studied the letter absently, her mind now thinking of Malfoy who was at Hogwarts, and wondering if being there seven days a week would be such a bad thing.

"Ok, I'll go help her three days a week, no more, no less; the library can be sorted that way, and I'm free to do other things on the other four days." She compromised; writing back her reply on a piece of parchment Ginny just supplied her with, a bright beam across her face.

"I'm happy for you Hermione, it'll give you something to do while Harry and Ron are starting Auror training, and I can be with Mum more, as she's been asking and I've been…"

"Feeling torn?" Hermione supplied, and Ginny sighed, nodding.

"Harry is still being off with me; he's happy I'm around and all, but he's definitely hiding something. He's told me all about what you guys did last year, so openly. I know he's not keeping something from me around that but…us. It has to be with us two. I want to be around him so he realises how great I am." She said with a playful hair flick, and Hermione laughed at her faked arrogance, recognising Ginny's cover up. "But then Mum…I need to be with her because Fred…and we're all off doing things; George with his shop, it's rare to see him away from it, Charlie always gone, Bill has a family now, Percy…he's been awful at actually re-building the relationship with all of us, but he's probably just embarrassed. Ron, he just sulks."

"I know this isn't going to sound comforting coming from me, but, with Harry; give him time. You know him; it's probably going to be a stupid, noble reason for something stupid. I'm not the best with relationships, but I know he is completely besotted with you. He still looks at you the way he did in sixth year." She attempted to comfort and Ginny sighed again, falling on to her bed dramatically.

"Oh I know. I just…"

"I understand," Hermione smiled, patting her friends hand gently, as she joined her on the bed.

"So where were you today anyway; I thought you said Andromeda's but I couldn't be sure." Ginny asked, changing the subject and perking up again.

"No, you heard right, I went there, only I interrupted her visit with the Malfoys." She cringed, as Ginny's hands flew to her mouth in shock.

"Oh no, how did it go?" She asked, looking at her friend with concern. Hermione mulled the question over in her head, before opening her mouth to speak as the door banged open.

"YOU WERE WITH MALFOY?" Ron shouted, his face puce, and his hands balled into fists, his entire body trembling with rage.

"Yes Ronald," Hermione began sarcastically, rolling her eyes, "your behaviour forced me to flee to Malfoy manner, into the arms of our greatest nemesis." She deadpanned, fighting to flatten the feeling that had reared its head, wondering what being in Malfoy's arms would actually be like. Ron had failed to actually note the sarcasm in Hermione's words, and was now shaking violently as he took a step forward. Ginny's hand collided with his face with such a smack he reeled backwards, a dead white hand print upon his cheek.

"Ronald Bilius Weasley," she seethed, her own posture mirroring her brothers as Harry came down the stairs, staring at the siblings with wide green eyes. "If you do not drop this controlling, possessive, down right creepy behaviour regarding Hermione, I will castrate you." She hissed, as Harry took a step forward, paling slightly and Hermione stood up, her wand out attempting to stop the siblings from fighting the best way she could.

"She's supposed to be with me!" Ron struggled to get out, flicking his eyes to Hermione with such a look of longing she felt slightly sick.

"I can't be with you Ron. I've told you." Hermione said gently, stepping around Ginny and staring Ron in the eye.

"But it doesn't make sense. It's not fair. Harry gets Ginny. They're fine. They've got all the support in the world. Who do I get? I thought it was you. We kissed Hermione!" He spoke quietly, the rage gone, and the sadness seeping in. "I need support too you know, my brother is dead, who can I talk to about it? Harry? Harry has enough to worry about. Mum? Dad? Start them off again? I've got no one. I thought I had you!"

"You've still got me, just as a friend Ron. Think about it, we wouldn't last long. We fight, all the time, over nothing, once we got what we needed out of each other then what? I force your family to take sides? Either you; or me? How would Ginny feel? She's with our best friend, she's like my sister. How about your Mother? She thinks of me like another daughter. Don't make me risk losing everything for a relationship with you. I love you; I do Ron, but not like that. I can't. We are too different, and while that may be brilliant for some couples, not for us, we work too well as friends, not as more. I'm not sorry we kissed Ron, at the time we needed that, and it helped me come clear on a lot of feelings I had with you, but I want you as a friend. Not more."

"It's not fair." Ron repeated, as tears spilt down his cheeks and Ginny gasped. Hermione wrapped her arms about him in a friendly embrace, which he returned, free of wandering hands.

"You'll always have me Ron, just not like that." She whispered into his neck. Ron nodded.

"I understand, you're right, I'm trying to force feelings where there are none, but…I'm sorry." He whispered back, and Hermione squeezed him.


	10. Books and Boy

"Hermione!" McGonagall exclaimed with relief as Hermione flooed into the Heads office at Hogwarts. The mismatched chiming of various objects a welcome entry song. "You startled me."

Hermione shook herself off, looking to her headmistress with a cheeky but apologetic smile, and straightened up.

"Let me walk with you," McGonagall said, getting up from behind her desk, and walking over to her quickly. Her expression was flustered, and she looked exhausted. "I have some things I need to go over with you on the way. Telling you will be much easier than my finding the time to do it myself." She explained as she hustled Hermione to the door at the end of her office, slipping her wand into her sleeve as she went.

"Is it important?" Hermione asked, keeping up with McGonagall's bustling pace with little effort, the length of her stride matching the witches as they dodged and stepped over the piles of rubble.

"Yes, I would think it is," McGonagall replied, turning her steely gaze upon Hermione with a fond sparkle in her eye. "First off, I think it is best that I let you know just how much persuading it took Irma- I mean Madam Pince to accept the idea of help with the library. It took her a week to even admit that you would be a suitable candidate for help, and another week for her to write you the letter. Please, I know you will, but follow every instruction she gives you to the letter. Handing over her library to someone who may know it almost as well as she does is a hard thing for her. Do as she says; even if it seems a little…unorthodox." McGonagall sighed, as they passed Filch emptying out drawers from desks. He gave them a withering glance, before going back to scraping pungent green goo off the inside of a drawer. Hermione blushed, a small flower of pride blooming within her chest. She was touched still that it was her that had been contacted, and even more so now that McGonagall was telling her how long it had taken for Madam Pince to come forward.

"Secondly, I have to admit I need to ask for help with the school. There is too much that needs to be repaired and done, and without a several more hands this school will not be fixed by the time term starts."

"I've started reading up on how to fix the walls-"

"Oh the walls don't matter Miss Granger, they will be fixed in due time, enough of the building is intact, thankfully all common rooms that we may start the term without worry. It is the wards that concern me more. I also meant classrooms, getting supplies, fixing everything; the library." She listed, with a sly glance at Hermione. "I need more hands walking about fixing and cleaning everything they see in sight. I must write to Molly; she would be ideal…" McGonagall began to muse, the first sights of stress carving themselves into her features. They passed a missing wall, the hole in the castle now standing out even more as Hermione noticed portraits and tapestries were slowly being put back. Many looked brighter, as if they'd been cleaned, the frames they were in gleaming. The corridors held a sort of breeze that had never been there before, and Hermione looked up slightly, only to see the tops of trees rustling in the distance. The missing stone had never been so obvious before; but as the insides were fixed, the gaps showed.

"I will pass on a message to the Weasley's and Harry, I'm sure they'll be happy to pop in once in a while and do what they can." Hermione said kindly, as they walked past Flitwick, his tiny body panting with exhaustion as the items in the room he was in flew about madly, settling themselves on to gleaming shelves, and sparkling desks. The glass window still cracked.

"I must say, without Mr Malfoy, we could be in a much worse position, but thankfully…"

"Malfoy? As in Draco?" Hermione asked astounded, peering at McGonagall who had a queer expression on her face as if deep in thought, but also repulsed.

"The very same," McGonagall sighed. "He has been a great help in cleaning the potions rooms. There is still a great way to go down there, many repairs to be made, but since his trial he has been helping. Not even court ordered, that was simply giving the school more galleons than it has seen in a long time…" Minerva seemed to have drifted off into a ponderous thought once more, her brows furrowed, and her lips were drawn together. The doors of the library, neared, and from behind them shrieks could be heard. The anguished cries of Madam Pince as she inspected her books drew an amused smile from McGonagall, and Hermione's eyebrows rose.

"If you could let Weasley's know my…plea for help, I would be grateful, and-"

"A first edition! Ruined! _RUINED!_"

"If you could just…do exactly as she says I can have her help with the rest of the school much sooner. Thank you Miss Granger. Oh, and try; please try to convince Irma to let go of the feather duster. She needs more than that to sort out the mess." McGonagall smiled, placing a gentle hand upon Hermione's shoulder, a trace of pride within her expression. Hermione smiled back, as McGonagall retreated with surprising speed up a staircase, her face set in its stressed, grim gaze, and vanished. Hermione pulled her wand out, summoning her otter and sending it to Ginny, justifying her frivolous use of the messaging with a patronus as practise. It was also the fastest way to send a message that she knew would definitely get there. She turned; about to open the door to the library when Professor Vector's surprised face swam into view. She smiled sheepishly at the woman who was directing a repaired portrait back into place, and pushed on the door; only to gasp with a mixture of horror and despair.

The library was in ruins. Glass littered every inch of the floor; desks were missing legs, or smashed up altogether. The lamps were ruined; some looked melted, whilst others were missing heads. The chairs were in the same state as the desks and the shelves…

Hermione stared; slack jawed as the ceiling high shelves were now at an angle. A domino effect had occurred, much in the same way as the hall of prophecies in her fifth year. Only instead of destroyed glass orbs; books had piled up in between, their pages splayed; spines split.

Madam Pince sat on the floor behind the shattered remains of her desk, rolls of parchment about her, her large hook nose bent over a large leather bound tome that looked like it was from the stone age. Hermione stepped forward tentatively, her feet scrunching broken glass loudly. Madam Pince looked up, her eyes wide, and Hermione stifled a giggle when she saw her famous feather duster tucked behind her ear. A quill was dipping itself in ink, before scrawling away once more on a roll of parchment.

"Miss Granger!" Madam Pince gasped, scrambling to her feet in the most ungainly way, she stumbled forward, and Hermione was stunned by the look of grief that hung behind her eyes.

"You said I could help?" Hermione tried, peering at the library's mistress curiously.

"Indeed, indeed; I just…I don't know where to start other than what I have done!" She exclaimed, and Hermione felt uncomfortable about the woman's lack of her familiar strict personality. It had unnerved her to see the library so disordered, as the woman famed for her rules and regulations to protect the books had apparently completely forgotten what to do.

"What have you done?" Hermione asked curiously, peering at the huge jumbled piles of books that lay most likely destroyed between the shelves.

"There are three empty classrooms Minerva- I mean Professor McGonagall has given me to put things in, one is now filled with books that are acceptable to be placed back on the shelves; the second is filled with books that need to be repaired; I will have to send them off to Flourish at some point, and I have been making a list of books that are…destroyed beyond repair." She explained, a strangled sob escaping her as she, gestured to the quill and the book she had been bent over, which now Hermione studied it, looked as though it was simply the charred remains.

"That's good at least. What can I do? The desks, chairs and lamps ought to be fixed at least." Madam Pince looked at her, dabbing away at a stray tear with a look of irritation; and Hermione remembered what McGonagall had said to her.

"Mr Malfoy has ordered us new chairs, desks and lamps." She sniffed, looking mildly unimpressed, and Hermione assumed it was due to the change that would have to occur in the library for them to be placed with in it. A strange emotion soaked her as she realised that the idea of Malfoy helping to fix the school; beyond what he was court ordered to do was giving her a queer thrill.

"I think Mr Hagrid is to have all broken furniture, he is to make them into firewood for the school." Madam Pince continued explaining, placing her handkerchief into her pocket.

"And the lamps?" Hermione prodded, sensing that she wasn't going to be given any information willingly; a much more recognisable personality trait from the woman, Hermione considered remembering all the times she'd had to hunt down a book herself.

"Gone beyond repair, to be thrown out." She almost snapped, taking her wand out. She sighed, and looked at Hermione almost apologetically, and flicked her wand. Books began to fly out of the library, and Hermione ducked, gasping.

"I will take these, and continue looking through them, and ordering them, you must…see this place back together somehow. Everything must be cleaned. Minerva wants a very fresh start for the school." Madam Pince said emotionlessly, as the books continue to stream over Hermione's head, her librarian's voice now coming from out of the doors. Tentatively, as the piles of books seemed to diminish after several minutes, Hermione felt comfortable enough to stand up straight again. The lack of old parchment and bound paper in the room made the place seem eerily empty and her footsteps echoed. Window's that had been blocked by the books were now free to flood the room with light, and Hermione flicked her wand at them; letting them open by themselves, and the wind from earlier began to blow the stuffiness out of the library. The fresh air letting Hermione pull herself together; the shock of how large a job she had now seeming to vanish with the charm that had taken the books away. She pulled her wand out, and banished the furniture to Hagrid's; hoping the pile of desks and chairs wouldn't be too much of a shock, and ran to a window to see if she could check; only to spy an already massive pile of broken items by his hut already. A small pile of wood the other side of it. She smiled to herself, looking back at the hall that now seemed emptier, as distressed footsteps came to a skidding halt by the double doors.

"Oh! Hermione!" McGonagall gasped for the second time that day, staring at the room in flat shock. "I see you managed to get through to Irma," she said, her eyes wide as she regarded the hall with awe. She recovered quickly, and waved her wand, and the tapestries and portraits came away from the walls, the suits of armour pulling themselves to attention and striding out the room. "I'll send you some house-elves." She finished, turning to scurry away after the library's decorations. Hermione pursed her lips, not too pleased with the idea of elves, and turned her attention to the lamps with the glass; only to realise they had vanished. Deducing that McGonagall must have done it she sighed, smoothing her hair back with her hand, and staring at the usually, dark, but welcoming room that she called the library. There were now only ceiling high shelves with in it. She twirled her wrist, and covered her ears as the ear splitting cracks of wood scraping and slamming onto stone echoed about the room. The shelves pulling themselves up, and standing to attention, as several cracks snapped about her ankles.

The house-elves had arrived, and they set to work immediately, spreading about the hall with various mops, dusters and buckets of water. They began clicking their fingers, and Hermione stood hypnotised as extra cloths were charmed into scrubbing the walls, the shelves, and the floor, as the house-elves somehow appeared at the top of the shelves, scrubbing them with all the strength they had in their arms. She was startled out of her daze as a short cough came from behind her.

"Having fun there Granger?" She spun instantly, ignoring the thrill of butterflies that built in her stomach the moment she heard that voice, and smiled.

"Surprisingly; yes." She replied, studying Draco's smirking face, his wintery features somehow bright in the sunlight.

"Well; you are Granger after all." He smirked, stepping forward, and Hermione only then noticed his tail of house-elves, struggling under the weight of desks. "I've a delivery," he drawled, taking note of Hermione's disapproving gaze.

"Put them in the corridor, I don't think I can let anyone place new things in here without the floor being so clean you can see your reflection in them." She said, and the house-elves instantly turned and left, gentle thuds coming from those at the very back as chairs were stacked, and desks placed down, metallic clinks as lamps met the floor. He sniggered, and withdrew his wand in a languid motion, his long fingers wrapping about the handle almost delicately.

"I'll help," he said, pointing his wand at the floor, and a thick fan like shine started to span out from its tip.

"What spell is that?" Hermione exclaimed, staring at the floor in admiration, her own face peering back at her wide eyed.

"Jealous?" He asked cleaning the floor by the doors absently, as the house-elves worked their way down the shelves. Hermione squirmed slightly, and Draco chuckled, the area he had cleaned spreading much wider than Hermione could have imagined, his wand deftly going over where the house-elves had been.

"It's better than house-elves." She found herself saying, and Draco scoffed as a couple of elves over heard her, and looked at her wide eyed in confusion.

"This stupid S. E. W. stuff again?" He sneered, as Hermione turned red.

"It's S. P. E. W! Actually, and yes, I think it's awful the way we treat house-elves like slaves!" She began, placing her hands on her hips as a couple of house-elves visibly stepped away from her; causing Draco to splutter with his amusement.

"For someone with the title, 'Brightest Witch of her Age', you aren't half a bloody insult to it." He said absently, still pointing his wand at the floor, seeing how far the range was with the spell out of mindless interest. "I bet you read up on house-elves, and then totally disregarded what it said deeming it biased, and therefore completely wrong; because you're Granger. How could an entire race of beings actually enjoy house-work and chores?" He mocked, his hand in his suit pocket, his eyes far more interested in his spell than her reaction.

Hermione pursed her lips, biting back a stinging retort, not wanting to fight. A fatigue began to sink into her bones, and she remembered why he'd been so pleasant to her the time before; she'd asked for a truce about Teddy, and it was with shock she realised she wished it was a truce all the time, the desire to actually get to know him had formed in full. He wasn't just a curiosity anymore.

"If you want, I can lend you a book on house-elves, there is even two sides to the argument." He offered, and Hermione paled slightly, trying to search out the sting to his words, the mocking note of laughter; only to find none.

"No, that's ok, you're wrong about why I don't like house-elves working so much." She began quietly, eyeing Malfoy carefully, "I hate how they punish themselves, and how we punish them. They deserve better living environments. I've grown up a bit since I was fourteen, and I understand a lot of what I thought then was wrong, but we still treat them awfully." She defended, her tone level and easy, and Draco smiled slightly.

"I understand." He said simply, and Hermione waited for the mocking to happen, the insults, the baiting laughter.

"Do you?" She asked him curiously, her eyes narrowing at him. Darkness flitted over his eyes that Hermione assumed had nothing to do with house-elves and he nodded, his blond locks falling into his eyes as he looked at her.

"Yes. I understand it's not the way to be, treating another like scum because of what they are." He admitted, and Hermione wished he was talking about muggle-borns desperately, she bit her lip and nodded, realising he'd cleaned a large amount of floor whilst they had been speaking. She picked up a lone mop, and dipped it in water as Draco began to wander off, his wand ahead of him, and his house-elves now slipping in between the Hogwarts ones, cleaning everything they could get their hands on. The top shelves now had a bright gleam to them, the bottom part of the walls somehow bright, as if the paint had also been touched up. She found the cleaning of the library oddly cathartic, the swishing motions of her wand and mop a calming blend for her turbulent emotions, and seeing the floor become shiny ahead of her made her rather proud.

"McGonagall said you're helping fix the school ahead of what you were court ordered." Hermione spoke out of nowhere, turning to look at Draco who was intently staring at the floor.

"Yes," he replied, looking at her defensively, "I have re-stocked the divination classrooms, bought several healing potions for the hospital wing and as you saw earlier, new furniture for the library; I'll be buying new ingredients for the potions store cupboard, as well as new cauldrons. I've also told McGonagall that I will buy all the furniture needed for the eighth year dorm and common room, and the Heads rooms and sitting room. The last part more so that I know where I'll be staying this year is decorated in an acceptable manner." He admitted, but Hermione's jaw had once again fallen open in shock. She'd always known that the Malfoy family was rich, but she'd never really considered the sheer extent of his wealth. He'd treated the fine of three million galleons as if it were nothing, and was now paying thousands more galleons in something he didn't have to do for the school.

"The heads are getting their own room and sitting room?" Hermione asked, suddenly realising what Draco had said, her eyes widening with delight; but slight dread as she wondered who she would have to share the room with.

"Want to decorate your room yourself Granger?" He asked, the smirk re-appearing, "I can organise that." She blinked, hardly registering what he'd said other than hearing it as a confirmation.

"No, no, I'm sure you'll do fine; I'm just more surprised at the head's getting their own space." She told him, still in a little daze. He looked at her, still smirking but without the malice that had been behind it for so many years previous.

"Congratulations on a pleasant living space Granger, any idea who you'll be sharing it with?" He smiled, and Hermione shook her head, chewing her lip with nerves.

"My bets on Longbottom." He told her, nodding his head knowingly. "You don't just behead the snake of the most messed up man this century and not get head boy." Hermione laughed, relieved at the idea of sharing a living space with Neville, but not at the idea of being with him as joint heads.

"As wonderful as Neville is, I don't think he's head boy material, and I think he'd agree with me."

"Alright, who are you hoping for then Granger?" he retorted, but kindly, and Hermione smiled at him as she thought about it properly for the first time since being asked to be head girl.

"You know…I really hadn't thought, I mean, I don't know who is coming back, or who was a prefect before, and what- oh Merlin, what if it's a seventh year as head boy. I mean too many people to wonder about. It's going to be a surprise." She replied as Malfoy looked at her as if she were mental, an amused smirk on his face.

"Who do you think would be the worst person to share a place with then?"

"Goyle." She replied instantly, almost as if she was again under the influence of vertiaserum. Mafoy's eyebrows rose in surprise before he doubled over laughing, a sound so free of his spite that Hermione double took, staring at him with a rush of joy and she grinned at him.

"Why?" He gasped, struggling to get the word out between bellows of laughter.

"I don't think he knows how to function without a babysitter, or exact instructions. I think I'd have to write out how to leave his dorm every morning, along with things like how to wipe his backside. Oh and the mess… I can't even imagine the mess…" she trailed off as Draco stood up to look at her properly, his laughter subsiding, and a flattered expression on his snow white features.

"You're not wrong Granger," he acknowledged, "I'm surprised though, I would have thought you would say me." He said, as Hermione began mouthing in thought, as if realising she hadn't said him. She twisted her mouth, meeting his silver gaze with her own chocolate eyes.

"I would have done a few months ago." She admitted eventually, and Draco nodded in acceptance, not pressing the matter further, a small quirk at the corner of his mouth. "Do you think you'll be head boy?" She asked him after a while, and Draco looked at her in shock.

"Seriously? Me? No, won't happen. I managed to scrape my way out of Azkaban, can you imagine how it would look if I were head boy?" He asked her, and Hermione felt something suspiciously like disappointment slip down the back of her throat, over turning her stomach.

"Hhmm, never say never," she replied, turning her watchful gaze to the house-elves who seemed to be relieved that Hermione and Draco were wrapped up in their surprisingly easy conversation, and were cleaning with a speed and magic Hermione had never witnessed before. A quarter of the large hall was now sparkling, the shelves in that quarter almost completely clean, the wood shining from the varnish, and the stones so clear Hermione could fix her hair in them.

"We ought to put in a few desks at least," Draco said, watching her stare at the elves with barely masked amusement.

"Yes," she agreed, following him as he walked out to the corridor. He walked to the first desk, an overly large ornate oak desk, which had been polished into a deep brown colour. She stared at in awe, taking in the tiny owl carvings on the legs, and the intricate swirls for decoration.

"Madam Pince's new desk," Malfoy explained, as Hermione reeled at his wealth once more, staring at the desk with such reverence Draco smirked. "Whenever you're ready Granger," he said finally, his hands tucked under the desk ready to lift it.

"Sorry," she replied, copying him, and together they hoisted the heavy desk into the library, gingerly placing it by the door, exactly where the old one used to be. Striding out of the library, shaking his arms off, he returned moments later with a large; just as ornate chair in his arms. He placed it behind the desk, walking out once more to return with a pair of lamps, one for the desk, and one for just behind the elegant chair.

"You alright Granger?" He asked her, as he set up the lamp on the desk, the deep purple shade matching the chairs satin exactly.

"Exactly how rich are you Draco?" she asked him, ignoring how right his given name tasted as she said his name, her surprise at his buying a desk and chair that fit the feel of the old library so well over riding her senses, and the sheer skill of the carvings of the chair and table making her reel.

"The Malfoy line is very old. When we first came to England with the Norman invasion, we were granted land in Wiltshire from the King, so I think that will tell you all you need to know about what we haven't had to pay for. Also says we were rich when we came here already, not everyone gets to cosy up with a King. Give it a few centuries of wealth just gathering interest, and being in a royal court, and we've more money than we care to think of. As…honest as it is, my fine would have barely dented the Malfoy coffers." He admitted, being far more open to Hermione than she would have expected, and by the way Malfoy was now blinking, his brows slightly knitted, he was feeling the same.

"Huh." Hermione replied, staring at him with surprise. "Next desk?" She continued, and he nodded, almost grateful for the distraction. Together, they moved several desks into the gaps left for them, picking up chairs each with satin cushioning and sliding them in to place, putting lamps at on every desk, just as they had been before. Hermione admired all of his effort; feeling pleased that the library wouldn't look too different, everything had just had a quality upgrade. His thoughtfulness made Hermione think, considering if he'd actually make a great head boy, and if she really was able to get to know Draco Malfoy. Her stomach fluttered with excitement at the thought, and she twisted her mouth curiously. A nagging thought that he was definitely able to challenge her intellectually in a way Ron and Harry had never been able to manage swam about her thoughts. Her thoughts had been constantly swamped with the thought of Draco Malfoy, and she didn't want it to stop. Eventually, they caught up with the house-elves, and the placement of new furniture had to stop, as Madam Pince's orders had been clear. Nothing to be done until the whole place was clean and pristine. Hermione clapped her hands together, as Draco told his elves to continue until the whole hall was clean, and they could have the day off tomorrow once they returned to the remains of the manor. Hermione almost gasped in surprise at that, and the elves began chattering between themselves, their work speeding up.

She turned to him, ready to say goodbye, until he spoke first.

"Granger." He said, looking her in the eye with such a serious piercing expression that Hermione gasped, meeting his questioning gaze tentatively.

"Malfoy." She answered, determined to not shiver under his searching eyes.

"Every time I called you mudblood, how did you feel?" he asked, and she gasped, staring at him wide eyed. His expression didn't change, he watched her, and glued to her every reaction and Hermione blushed.

"The first few times, when I learnt what it meant, it hurt, it upset me, then as I grew older I realised I am who I am. I can't change that, I have to accept it, and when your insult never really made sense to me anyway, it stopped hurting, but not only that, I changed too. You're a bully Malfoy, or maybe you were a bully, you seem…friendly now, but bully's bully usually because they're jealous, or they've been bullied themselves and it's all they know, or because their trying so hard to make something of themselves and this is the only way they can figure out. Bullies have nothing of their own to be proud of. So, you became nothing to me. Why on earth would I allow nothing to hurt me? I stopped caring; I also had more important things to worry about, but…really, you were nothing to me." She shrugged, gauging his reaction as she spoke. His eyes had widened, and he'd become paler than usual, the snow white of his skin becoming a slight grey. He looked as though he'd been sucker-punched, and Hermione felt sympathetic towards him, even though he'd asked her. She smiled kindly at him, and he relaxed slightly.

"I seem friendlier?" he asked eventually, and her smile widened.

"You do, you've barely insulted me, and look at how much time we've had together." She retorted, raising a disapproving brow jokingly, "you're slacking Malfoy, ten points from Slytherin."

He laughed, surprised once more, and grinned.

"Don't abuse it Hermione." He replied, her name sounding like a siren song on his tongue.

"I need to go," she said, feeling ever so disappointed at the time, and he nodded, the sparkle in his eyes dimming.

"I'll see you later." He said almost hopefully, the nagging feeling that he'd been nothing to her causing him to feel rather sick, and for some reason unbalanced. A feeling he couldn't quite fathom filling him with a twisted relief when she said he was friendlier.

"I'd like that," she answered with a coy, curious smile, and left the library.


	11. Centaurs and Moons

Hermione ran her hands through the grass, smiling as the breeze blew over her, ruffling her hair. The morning had been long, but educational. Madam Pince had taught her many librarian spells in order for her to replace the books quickly, efficiently, and just how she liked them now the entire hall was immaculate. Her she'd been so busy charming books with hexes to protect them from vandals, and double checking books on shelves were exactly where they should be; that lunch had come as a welcome break. It was now that she was by Hagrid's Hut, watching him build the memorial garden that seemed to be growing at an unnatural rate that she relaxed. Chewing absently on an overstuffed sandwich, curtesy of the Malfoy house-elves of all things, she watched the tree line mesmerised by the dark shapes of animals that cast shadows upon the trunks of the ancient trees.

Until they seemed to be getting closer.

The figures moved closer to where Hermione could see the outlines of bows and arrows, a tall torso, and horse like flanks. She gasped, scrambling to her feet as five centaurs, and a lone unicorn broke forward from the forest.

They'd spied her, and at a gallop, were heading towards where she now stood; eyes wide. She shook herself out of it, and stepped forward, hoping she looked like she was happy to welcome the centaur group. They slowed as they neared the loss of speed still graceful despite the sheer power she knew they could achieve with their legs, and stern; unnaturally beautiful faces regarded her. The pulled to a halt, several paces away, keeping their distance. The long powerful bodies stamping and pawing at the turf beneath their hooves as if establishing dominance, and their heads perfectly still, strong arms each holding a bow with an arrow knocked.

"She has matured." One from the back commented, his golden hair rippling as a fresh wind blew over them.

"Still young." The one who appeared to be a leader commented. "You will do however, we bring news."

"No," She gasped, looking at them all with wide eyes, what she hoped was concern displaying instead of fear. "I must get someone else, older, wiser than me."

"She will do." The centaur with golden hair commented again, as Hermione pulled her wand out, and the sound of bow strings being tightened caused her to swallow. She looked up, to see the arrows levelled at her, the eyes of the magical beings narrowed suspiciously, almost furiously.

"No, I really won't do, I'm not…I can't handle whatever it is you are going to tell me, I'm not in charge of Hogwarts, I…please, let me summon someone who can help you better than I can." She pleaded, as the centaurs remained like statues, and a nagging feeling began to build that two of them looked very familiar to her.

"She has wisdom." The centaur from the back spoke again, and regarded her carefully as he put his bow down, "I say we allow it, if she does not summon, we can take her."

The unicorn, the odd member of this group had been watching, still and sure as the strange meeting occurred. It was now that it stepped forward, so white Hermione felt blinded, and stood in front of her, its horn almost pressing against Hermione's hair line. The centaurs watched, mouths pressed together, and a sigh from the leader startled Hermione.

"You must have a heart that has some goodness in it. We will trust you. Summon your elders." He commanded, regarding the unicorn carefully.

"Thank you," Hermione breathed, and her silver otter burst forward, swimming to the castle with a speed she'd never recognised from it before.

"Hermione!" A startled, worried cry came from behind her, and she span around, to see Draco Malfoy running towards her; his movement surprisingly lithe and effortless. His suit blew behind him as he ran, and she gasped to see the concerned, almost fearful expression on his face.

"He worries." The golden haired centaur spoke once more, watching Draco run towards them, skidding to an abrupt stop as he realised the unicorn was watching him with eyes that seemed to go on forever.

"Yes." Said another, as Draco approached coming to stand next to Hermione in such close proximity that she smothered a gasp; inhaling his earthy fresh cut grass scent hungrily. She stepped slightly closer to him, and the centaurs watched with such a look of knowing Hermione thought she could pass out.

"Did you summon him?"

"No, I summoned another."

"He is young, younger than her." Commented the golden haired centaur as the one with hair with silver and such astonishingly blue eyes finally spoke.

"You are Hermione Granger. You ran with Harry Potter." He said, and Hermione gasped.

"Firenze!"

"Yes," he smiled, as the others turned to look at Firenze with surprise.

"Hermione Granger? You are the one who brought us the Umbridge creature." The leader spoke, his hair as black as night, an unpleasant curl to his lip making Hermione shiver. Draco snapped his head to her, his eyes narrowed with curiosity, and a blush crept up her neck, settling on her cheeks. His suspicion would have to be explained later.

"I am sure it wasn't intentional Bane." Firenze said lightly, his eyes turning to Professor McGonagall who was hurrying down the steps a handful of her robes in her hand, the other on her bun, holding everything in place. "You have done well to summon Madam McGonagall." Firenze praised Hermione, stepping forward and dipping his head ever so slightly in respect.

"Firenze!" McGonagall gasped, acknowledging the rest of his small group respectfully, and stepping back with alarm as she noted the unicorn, radiating peace and such dignity Hermione began to feel unruffled.

"We come with important news Minerva." He spoke, and the other centaurs stepped away from Hermione and Draco, moving to follow Firenze, and Hermione let out a breath she wasn't even aware she was holding. Draco watched her carefully, his arm out at a strange angle, as if he was about to offer it to her; before he thought better of it. He leaned forward slightly, trying to catch her eyes with this curious, concerned winter gaze.

"You took them Umbridge?" Draco murmured to her, a look of flat out curiosity upon his features.

"Remember when your squad had us at wand point, and I said about a weapon? I was going to take her to see Hagrid's half-brother Grawp, but, they found us first." She replied quietly, walking after the centaurs, closely tailed by Draco who seemed torn between hysterical laughter, and looking incredibly impressed.

"We have fixed the ward points; the last is up to you." Bane was saying to McGonagall, his expression torn between regret and sorrow as he looked upon her. "We have fixed the three in the forest, a phoenix, which has taken a home here since almost twenty four moons passed fixed one and a unicorn the last. We managed to convince the merpeople to fix theirs." He said, handing over a bundle of hair from what looked to be their tails, a pair of phoenix feathers, and several scales.

"Blood would be strongest." Firenze said to an absolutely astonished McGonagall who looked for the entire world as if she was trying to figure out what they were talking about.

"Thank you," she said eventually, "we will never forget your kindness."

"See that you don't." Bane responded harshly, "The time for your human superiority complex must pass. You cannot make the same mistakes."

"Mistakes that we are just as guilty for! Or have you forgotten we did not help the war. We let it get as bad as it did. Do you forget his messengers; promising us horror after horror for our loyalty? The planets never looked so much like they would speak of our destruction during those years. We help the humans." Firenze chastised, as Bane growled at him, humiliation and shame blazing behind his eyes.

"I fear Mr Bane is just as right as you are Firenze," McGonagall spoke tiredly, "there is no one guilty party in this, we have all made dreadful mistakes. Now we must right those wrongs as much as we can." She sighed, as Bane ran appraising eyes over her, the golden haired centaur reaching out to touch over McGonagall's heart with a strong calloused hand.

"Much wisdom resides here. You lead this place now?"

"I am its new headmistress, yes," she confirmed, looking wearily to the fingertips he had placed on her chest.

"The wizarding young will do well under you; almost as well as the one you called Dumbledore. There is hope for the future. The planets say it is so." He declared, removing his fingertips as Firenze looked proudly at him, and Bane looked conflicted.

"I'm afraid…you are going to have to explain what you mean by ward points and why this," McGonagall sighed, shaking the tail hairs gently, "is necessary."

Bane regarded her coolly, before turning his gaze to the sky, as Firenze tilted his head at her quizzically. The golden haired centaur looked at McGonagall, his face sad, as a centaur that hadn't spoken yet stepped forward, russet coloured hair pulled into a knot on the top of his head.

"You know not of the land you stand on?" He asked her, deep amber eyes searching the headmistresses carefully. A wave of warmth that wasn't from the sun shifted to her right, and she flicked her eyes over to Draco to see him moving ever so slightly closer to her. His face impassive. She smothered a smile, and looked to her mentor once more.

"We know little, records have been lost." She fearlessly admitted, and the centaurs stared at her with shock.

"You do not tell your young stories? You don't tell them of where they came from?" Bane questioned, horrified, as Firenze moved closer to McGonagall.

"The old ways have been very lost to these witches and wizards." He said sadly, before copying Bane's previous action; and looking at the sky.

"We knew it would be ancient magic!" Hermione found her voice piping up, and Draco tensed beside her, as if her were about to grab her and run.

"Old, powerful magic. Magic you have doubtless forbidden." The russet haired centaur said, "Magic you have scorned and lost the understanding of. Has the war taught you nothing?" he asked, eyeing the handfuls of hair in McGonagall's hand wistfully. "Perhaps we have made a mistake."

Bane reared suddenly, his bow and arrow aimed at the heart of the amber eyed centaur, a look of unadulterated rage across his features. Draco's hand tightened about Hermione's wrist, and with a sharp tug he pulled her to the side, deftly out of the immediate sight of the centaurs. The unicorn watched him carefully.

"Don't tell me I have made a mistake!" Bane hissed landing all four hooves on the ground as Hermione stared at Draco in surprise, noting he seemed unwilling to meet her gaze.

"We have not," Firenze said calmly, "they are just like our own young now, and we must educate them, for if they do not fix this school…" He trailed off; his eyes on the sky once more.

"The land you stand upon, what is it?" The amber eyed centaur spoke, looking the humans each in the eye searchingly.

"A school." McGonagall replied, sensing she wasn't quite right.

"The lake? The forest?" His amber eyes seemed to burn with such disappointment Hermione found it difficult to look. Until a memory jostled to the forefront of her memory.

"No…"Hermione breathed, "it's not just a school, it's a magical reserve…" The golden haired centaur turned his eyes upon her, regarding Bane with an annoyed twist to his lips.

"I said she was mature."

"She is still freshly young." Bane retorted, as the amber eyed centaur strode towards her.

"Yes, and it has been that way for as long as we can remember. Our memory is very old. We used to share this land with non-magical beings, until too many of us came under threat. The founders of this school; they knew how much of this land was magical, and so built the school. To protect us; the other magical creatures that reside with us, and to teach your young undisturbed. They used powerful, difficult magic. We have fixed what we can of this ancient magic, since it was poisoned so by the Dark Wizard. The rest you must do." The russet haired centaur spoke to her, staring into her eyes, imploring her to understand.

"The wards were simply poisoned? Not removed entirely?" she asked quietly, and the eyes narrowed again.

"If they were gone altogether, there would be magickless here. Your charm on the school is just one of the many layers of protection the land has."

"Firenze!" Hagrid's joyful boom washed over them all, and Hermione jumped, inwardly smacking her hand onto her forehead as she realised Hagrid would have been ideal to summon as well, due to him knowing the centaurs. Draco gently tugged on the hem of her blouse, pulling her backwards away from the centaur that seemed to be intently staring at her. She smiled kindly at him, hoping it wouldn't be taken as an offence as the centaur moved the amber gaze to Draco, the look of such knowing returning.

"What brings yeh 'ere!" Hagrid said as he approached the group, standing protectively by McGonagall.

"Important news Hagrid." Firenze replied a kind smile across his face, as Hagrid's sparkling, beetle like eyes slid over to the unicorn.

"Oh blimey." He breathed, looking back to Firenze questioningly.

"He comes with a gift," the golden haired centaur spoke, and Hagrid's eyes widened with understanding and he ran back to his hut, scrambling out moments later with a bucket.

"Don't let 'im do it yet!" He called, jogging back to the group as the unicorn stepped forward as if there was nothing in its way. Hermione watched curiously, as Draco leant forward with her, Hagrid offering the bucket so sweetly Hermione smiled.

The unicorn ducked its head, raising a front leg, and with a swift slash split its skin open suddenly. Silver streamed out of the gash, filling the bucket faster than Hermione would have liked. Moments later, it stepped back, the cut stopping it's bleeding almost immediately.

"A gift of unicorn blood should be treasured." Bane said, as the unicorn fled into the forest, the speed of which Hermione gasped at, as Hagrid stared slack-jawed. "We will take our leave now, you have much to learn." He said, and followed the unicorn, as Firenze waved his farewell, following Bane.

The group stared after them in amazement, Hagrid eyeing the half-filled bucket of unicorn blood with sheer astonishment.

"Keep it safe Hagrid, preferably in something other than a bucket, and I will tell the ministry of what has happened so we don't encounter yet more trouble." McGonagall said as Hermione forcibly slapped her palm to her forehead, groaning in pain.

"The Grey Lady." She said as a way of explanation and McGonagall sighed with understanding.

"We are fools," she said, as Hagrid sauntered back into his hut in clear shock, and McGonagall turned to walk back into the school, gesturing for both Hermione and Draco to follow. "Find the Grey Lady immediately. Think on what the centaurs said about ward points. Any information we can scrape together is better than nothing." She told them as they hurried up the path to the school.

:: :: ::

"SIR NICHOLAS!" Hermione bellowed the moment they entered the school so loudly that Draco jumped and McGonagall looked alarmed.

"Was that necessary Miss Granger?" McGonagall asked as Hermione looked sheepish, and shrugged slightly.

"Harry and Ron have finally rubbed off on me," she grinned, "but I thought it would help if a ghost I knew would reply to me would help our search." Hermione explained, as Draco's brows furrowed. A silvery being slipped through a wall, his head swinging off casually; almost as if it were more comfortable like that, he approached with a broad grin on his face, delighted to have been summoned.

"You haven't seen the Grey Lady have you?" McGonagall asked him the moment she laid eyes on him, and his shoulders fell.

"Always with the Grey Lady, am I not ancient and knowledgeable for you all?" He lamented, before gesturing upwards. "Stay here, I shall bring her." He ordered, floating up through the ceiling muttering darkly.

"Why the Grey Lady?" Draco eventually asked, and Hermione looked at him curiously before realisation slipped over her features.

"She is Helena Ravenclaw, the daughter of Rowena Ravenclaw; she may know something about the building of this school." She explained, as comprehension dawned over Draco.

"You have been summoned by the Headmistress!" Nearly-Headless-Nick said in an overly loud voice as he drifted down entrance hall once more with another shimmering figure, this time only female. She sighed, rolling her eyes, and peering down at the group curiously.

"I can't help you about the Diadem." She announced, as he feet became close to being on the floor.

"It's not about the Diadem," McGonagall replied curtly, "I need you tell us everything you know about how your mother made this school.

"Oh!" she gasped a delighted smile across her face, "It was one of my favourite stories when I was growing up!" She exclaimed and a look of sheer astonishment passed over their faces, eagerness winning over in their expressions; and they stared at her hungrily.

"They used magic ancient to them; old magic, very powerful magic, there was a time when the magickless creatures – muggles included and us of the magical ways could live together. It wasn't harmonious, things like that can never be, and the need for a place where magical beings could live and thrive together had to be found. The forest and the lake were already packed with magical creatures, and the fields adjacent were deemed a perfect place to put a school. It was private, and almost already difficult to just stumble upon. My mother made a deal with the creatures of the lake and the forest. The school could be built if protection was given to those who lived in the forest and the lake. They agreed, and so began to build a school with rock from the land. It was the first ward point, the most powerful one. Then they went into the lake and the forest, and created four more points, each anchored to each other, to cloak and protect the land. The enchantment to make this school look like an abandoned ruin should a muggle encounter it was unnecessary, and a much later addition, the magic my mother and her friends used was fare more complicated and powerful. They gave their blood to the land, and so did the creatures that lived within the forest, they gave something of them to the ground. It's old magic, and abandoned because it is too powerful; hard to control. We also found far more refined ways of doing things without having to bleed, spit and shed our hair each time we needed to cast a spell. I had been wondering why there were still holes in the castle; it should have repaired itself, this is why you are asking I assume." The Grey Lady almost rambled, as they listened in raptured states.

"It is, yes," McGonagall admitted, and the Grey Lady nodded to herself.

"All isn't as bad as it seems, or the castle would not be standing; the ward points just need replenishing. However the ward was removed, it must have been done with a severe lack of understanding, or even sheer luck; I don't think this would have even happened if there was knowledge of it. The collapsing of this school would have killed everyone."

"How?" Hermione asked, unable to control herself.

"Magic is in the very rock you stand on, the walls that shield you, the roof that keeps you dry from the outside. The sheer force of all the wards being removed would have caused a colossal explosion; I doubt there would be much land left after the castle was done. Did you never wonder how rooms would appear out of nowhere, why the staircases moved, why the school seemed to grow and shrink according to need? It's almost pure magic."

"I see, and so we must…replenish this magic somehow," McGonagall spoke, holding up the hair of the centaurs almost disgustedly.

"Yes, you must offer something magical to the stones of the school, and it must be willingly given; and ask it for help, help is integral to the make-up of this school. Once all the damaged areas have been given this offering, the final spell must be said."

"What is that spell?"

"I don't know, mother never said." She sighed, looking at their crestfallen faces with shame.

"Hang on," Draco spoke, sounding irritated, "this is all rather far-fetched don't you think. Asking the school for help once we give it our blood, or hair, or…something of ourselves. Surely you're making this up, magic could never be this barbaric." He said sounding repulsed.

"Fool. You think the wand you hold in your hand doesn't contain something of a magical being; what is it you are using these days, dragon heartstrings, phoenix feathers, unicorn hair. There is a reason a muggle hasn't been able to come to this part of the world for millennia, they don't even know it exists. They can't. The need to protect it was greater than anything else for them, the love for the land-"

"Love?" Hermione asked stunned; her mind brimming over with the sacrifice both Harry and his mother made. The tale of Voldemort using unicorn blood and Harry's own blood bubbling on the tip of her tongue. "I think I understand." She said eventually.

"You do?" The Grey Lady asked her sceptically, eyeing her curiously.

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but you're talking about magic used from a time when we barely understood it ourselves. When we didn't understand how some forces worked, and how to channel it properly, but we realised we ourselves are magical. We realised that creatures like centaurs were clearly magical, and so were birds of fire. So we thought that if we put part of ourselves, the very magical beings on to the land, we could create some sort of protection for it; or we could cast some kind of magic with it. We were right, and so someone at some-point began to devise and experiment and came up with this warding spell the founders of Hogwarts used. Only, they made it stronger, because they didn't just use their own beings, they used magical creatures too. This very school is the fifth ward point and the strongest because they poured their very own emotions into making it. It is literally a labour of blood, sweat and tears; but also I imagine frustration, joy and love. The wards were removed by a man who had absolutely no understanding of love, and so he could never remove it like someone else could, but he could damage it. That's what he did, he damaged the emotional layer of the school; and that's why it can't be fixing itself like normal. He damaged what he didn't understand. That's why we need to give the school blood, and hair and anything else we can; because we need to tie it to beings with emotions, so that when we cast the spell – that we will really need to find, we will be protecting the school with the very first kind of magic we still experience today." Hermione garbled, her thoughts spinning at a thousand miles an hour, and she stared at her hands, one gripping her wand tightly as she tried to get her thoughts to make sense. A silence had fallen, the astonished faces of McGonagall, Draco and the Grey Lady staring at her with a mix of pride and admiration.

"How are you not in my house." The Grey Lady spoke eventually.

"I almost was," Hermione admitted.

"She is a credit to Gryffindor," McGonagall said proudly, and she flushed with pleasure.

"You were right however, that is exactly what they did, and exactly how my mother described building the school. A labour of love. They may have had more refined wards by the time the school was built, which have been added over the years, but the one my mother and her friends did remained the strongest, and the vital essence of the school."

"Would it help if we had many people and beings give part of themselves to the school?" McGonagall asked curiously, gazing at the Ravenclaw house ghost with apprehension.

"The more who can feel emotion, the better." She replied, looking at the three of them with a gentle smile. "I think you have all you need to know now, besides the final spell. I will take my leave; you will know where to find me." She smiled, drifting away.

"I will write to Shacklebolt, he can put out a notice at the ministry and then everyone of age will know what has to be done to fix Hogwarts, I'll let the Weasley's know also, we shall start on this in full tomorrow." McGonagall explained, as she began to hurry off towards her office.

:: :: ::

The lake was quiet, a mirror for the stars to shine upon, lazy ripples marring it's surface as the giant squid lazily played with the liquid of its home. Hermione came to a stop at the shores, realising that Draco also stood there, his hands in his suit pockets, his eyes watching the squid with a slight smile upon his pale pink lips.

"Stalking me Granger?" He drawled as she stood next to him, her own eyes on the lake.

"I just needed some thinking time, about the school, about…everything." She admitted, realising she'd spent more time thinking about Malfoy that the school.

"Same as me then Granger, I still say giving blood is barbaric."

"But it makes sense to you doesn't it?" She retorted kindly, and Draco sighed, hanging his head in defeat and acknowledgement. They stood together for a while in silence, the playful lapping of the water by the giant squid the only noise between them for a while.

"I heard it was your birthday today." She commented, giving him a sidelong glance.

"It is." He confirmed, and looked at her curiously, before watching the lake again.

"Happy birthday to you," Hermione began to sing into the night, her eyes set on the stars above her, and the cool breeze that blew over them both. "Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to Draco, happy birthday to you." She sang quietly, as Draco's face split into a large smile.


	12. Talk and Rant

"It's all a bit peculiar isn't it?" He joked, leaning against the wall of the corridor with a goblet in his hand nonchalantly, his winter eyes upon the men and women in ministry robes across the corridor, talking amongst themselves as they pricked their fingers; smearing their lives essence across the stone. Asking in hushed, sceptical voices for help in putting the school back together, and jumping back in astonishment as the blood was drunk by the stone.

Hermione had started in awe at the action the first time she had done it, her sparkling ruby drop sitting so perfectly on the top of a broken stone had simply fallen into the rock, as if sucked; as if it had been drunk.

The school seemed more alive to her somehow, colours more vivid, sounds sharper, the freshness of the air; sweeter. The offerings of the magical creatures had been given first, the unicorn blood had been spread about the great hall, its silver beauty absorbed hungrily, and a rush to the rest of the castle had happened. The realisation the stone was accepting blood had thrilled Hermione, despite the vileness of the subject, and she'd chased McGonagall through the corridors, eager to watch as each offering was given. Hope blossoming its pure flowers in her heart. She relaxed in the alcove, picking at her lunch casually, as the sun from the window beat down beside her, her eyes upon the boy beside her.

She'd gone looking for him come her lunch break from the library; her eyes and feet slow, searching for the man whose appearance suited snow and moonlight more than mortality, and had been surprisingly relieved to find him sauntering up on the fourth floor. His hands were held a tray, a jug placed upon it with two goblets, and a pair of plates, stacked beneath one heaped with lunch meats, breads, and cheeses. He'd greeted her, in the drawling, effortless way he did, with some excuse as to why he would be bringing her lunch, and she smiled, settling into the alcove as he placed the tray down.

"More than peculiar, I don't…of all the ways to fix the school; this is it?" She replied, disbelieving and curious; her head had been as heavy as lead the last few days since the centaurs had arrived, the revelation had caused her to think far too much. The man standing beside her a favourite topic for her brain to dwell on, and now she regarded him, tidying her mahogany hair behind her ears.

"I saw you using your hair earlier," he commented as Hermione sighed, fighting back a roll of her eyes, but she smiled slightly instead, remembering that Draco had used his blood, and only his blood.

"I think I've seen enough blood to last me a life time." She replied.

"Well, that's you becoming a healer out the question then." He retorted sipping the pumpkin juice casually as Hermione chuckled. She looked at him questioningly again; unable to ignore all the questions his very presence raised, and her pink lips twisted slightly.

"I suppose its best I'm using my blood." He mused, watching the ministry employees leave, as another group arrived, dutifully guided to their spot to give offerings by Professor Flitwick. Hermione saw red; betrayal and disappointment bursting through her like water behind a broken dam, the irritation making her hair crackle, the storm gathering.

"Don't you dare!" She hissed furiously, "don't you dare imply my blood isn't as magical as yours because it is! You and your pure-blood ways are just pathetic. You know, it's not even pathetic. It's sad. Have you ever really thought about it Malfoy? What you stand for? What you preach?" She spat, as Draco stared at her, his expression astounded; almost confused. She softened seeing his torn features, and pulled out her wand.

"_Avis_" she cast, the golden birds becoming her halo, before her wands tip began to glow like the stars. She dotted her wand above her, the little points of light beginning to float about her, as she changed the spell again, and flowers burst from her wand; their fragrance overwhelmingly pleasant in the musty corridor.

"This, all this," she began, referring to her magical shroud; "Is just so beautiful, and you pure-bloods would rather this died out altogether than allow it continue."

"What?" Malfoy gasped, horrified and repulsed; but his eyes were on Hermione, the silver lights she'd cast setting her complexion alight, making her warm brown eyes sparkle alluringly; setting the mahogany tones of her hair on fire.

"I mean, when I first entered the wizarding world, I never really thought of it that much when I learned it was a thing; then obviously, being friends with Harry and the war it became more prominent you know; I was what your whole philosophy was fighting against. I had to run from being registered, from being murdered last year. We both know what happened when your aunt got a hold of me." She continued, as Draco's pallor palled to grey, pain mingling behind his steely eyes, his expression as if he were repressing vomit. "So I had to think about it, how could I not? There was lots of time for thinking last year. Everything I was fighting for stopped being about my own livelihood a long time ago, before I had to go on the run; it was for my friends, for everyone I had met, for every child like me who didn't know what they really were; and would find a place they could become themselves without being a 'freak', in the muggle world. Never, not even once did I think it would become about magic itself." She explained, watching as Draco slid down the wall beside her, his eyes curious. The she flicked her wand, setting her birds to fly free as they willed, and the silver touches of light began to settle over both of them instead. She settled her gaze upon him; watching his agonised, tortured expression carefully.

"You pure-bloods only marry within the pure-blood families, and Ron was right. Wizards are dying out. The Black family is dead. It's completely gone, there are no remaining Blacks, and that was one of the biggest pure-blood families."

"My mother is a Black." Draco found himself saying, and Hermione laughed.

"No, she's a Malfoy. Can you see her having any children anytime soon?" She asked, as Draco curled his features up in thought. "What about the Potter and Weasley lines? They're both impure now. Not because Weasley's are blood-traitors Malfoy, but because they're starting to marry non-pure-blooded witches. The Weasley's are a huge family that are pure-blooded, but again; completely disregarded because they like Muggles, have a tolerance for people like me. Shunning them only served to make all the pure-blooded inbreeding worse."

"I'm not inbred." Draco cut in, turning his lip up into his famous sneer.

"Oh please. Exactly how pure-blooded are you?" She retorted, matching his sneer with a scowl.

"No one in my family has ever been with a muggle, half-blood or muggle-born." He replied, the tone carrying the weight of how old his heritage was and Hermione smirked.

"You are extremely inbred. Your mother comes from a line that was famous for its madness. That kind of stuff comes from inbreeding." Hermione told him, as Draco paled, torn between anger and humiliation. "We have had two wars in the last twenty years both with heavy losses, all because people like you think that people like me are scum. That we have come in forcefully to this world and we're making it awful, like we're ruining it somehow because we happened to have been brought up on the side of the world that hasn't a clue about magic."

"The Lestranges' have died out as well," Draco began as if he hadn't heard the last part of her rant, "I don't think there will be much fraternising going on in Azkaban, so that means the Goyle line has gone too, so has the, Carrow, Yaxley, Rowle, Rosier, Avery and Crouch lines." Draco told her, paling still further with each name he rattled off.

"Now let's add the names with only female heirs to marry off, essentially killing off those lines when they marry." Hermione encouraged gently.

"Greengrass, Parkinson, Abbott and Bulstrode." He whispered, his winter eyes glazing over with horror; as Hermione looked at him sorrowfully.

"Now the lines that could die out if their male heirs don't marry soon." She continued, watching him carefully; relieved that he knew the pure-blooded families as well as she thought, her own studies of the sacred twenty eight had been brief, and not thought of after she realised it wouldn't help with the Horcrux hunt.

"Slughorn, Shacklebolt, and Ollivander."

"Pure-blood lines that have already died out?"

"Gaunt, Prewitt, Black and…" he trailed off, his voice so quiet Hermione had to strain to hear him, his skin as grey as the dead she'd been forced to step over, and his expression fearful.

"See, you're dying out Draco; so don't you fucking dare tell me that your blood has more magical potency than mine, or that it's better than mine somehow because it isn't. My kind of blood is what will keep the wizarding world alive. We need it now." She whispered flicking her wand and stopping the incantation that had made their conversation seem so private. As if lights, flowers and birds could keep sound in. The ministry witches and wizards had continued to come and go as they chatted; now further on down the corridor than Hermione expected, as the pair sat back in silence. Draco fiddling with the cuffs of his shirt as he forgot about his meal, his brows knitted together, lips white.

"I guess we should all be breeding like the Weasley's" He sighed after a while, running his hands through his hair of stolen moonlight.

"It would help." Hermione chuckled, as Draco grinned.

"I always thought the Malfoy tradition of having just one son was stupid; lonely." He commented, surprised as he found Hermione nodding along.

"It's really lonely." She agreed a wistful expression on her face.

They sat, in amicable silence for a while, disappointment still strong with Hermione, that Draco would assume his blood was better than hers after all he had been through and done. Revulsion was beginning to build, irritation at herself for possibly entertaining the idea of getting to know him; to possibly be his friend. The sun faded as a cloud passed over it, and she sighed, realising that age old prejudices would be hard to kill the moment a war ended. The stone was hard underneath her, cold to the heat of the sun; she looked over at Draco, and smiled softly. She met his gaze unflinchingly, resting her head against the wall.

"I don't understand you." Draco said, looking so deeply into Hermione's eyes she felt utterly naked. "I don't understand any of this. I hate what you said."

She gasped, re-winding the words they'd said to each other, wondering what it was that would have upset him. She blanched inwardly, unable to admit the idea of upsetting him now caused her dread, and upset.

"I'm sorry about the inbred-"

"Don't be ridiculous, it's not that; it's the fact you think I need a chance to be myself." He interrupted his face an attractive grimace, "I don't know what that is supposed to be. You imply I wasn't myself before. Who am I supposed to be?" He almost growled, staring her down; his posture somehow intimidating despite the fact he was sitting, turned towards her on the stone floor of the corridor.

"You!" Hermione replied, worry leaking into her tone.

"I am me! I can't be anyone else!" He hissed at her, the venom in his tone, so clear it hurt.

"So you're telling me that you honestly, truly believe that you weren't brought up in an environment that may have stopped you from thinking for yourself." She spat back, suddenly incensed, her bravery back on its legs, but still cowering a little.

"Do you always make assumptions?"

"What am I assuming?"

"That I was raised to not think for myself."

"Well prove it then. If you weren't told being pure-blooded was best, what would you have thought about me and 'my kind', what would be your real reasons for hating me?" She asked, her eyes blazing, a forest fire to match his blizzard. He faltered, the snarl dropping from his face, the blizzard raging on and he picked himself up, standing on his feet only to start pacing up and down in front of her.

"Tell me, if you were raised the same way I was you wouldn't think the same. If our positions were switched." He growled at her, and Hermione blushed with shame. She noted that he hadn't answered her question, just skipped around it, and the strange thrill she so often got with Draco set her body alight.

"No, you're right. I would."

"So don't fucking preach at me like I should just be as perfect as Potter the moment all this war stops. I don't even understand why you did what you did for me anyway; why you keep talking to me."

Hermione pulled herself up, to join him in his pacing, her head low as he looked at her, his tormented expression she found herself unable to look at.

"Harry isn't perfect." She found herself saying as she walked with him, managing to look where she was going.

"Of course he isn't." He scoffed, placing his hands in his suit pockets.

"No one is perfect, I just think you can be…better; make the Malfoy name decent for once." She said softly, as the chatter from ministry employees neared them, and they both ducked into an empty classroom, unwilling to be seen together.

"The Malfoy name already is decent," he told her, proudly, as the chatter passed and silence descended on them.

"No, it's in ruins now." She goaded, unable to explain exactly what she was doing, and why she was doing it. They stood facing each other, her chin tipped up to look him in the face, his tall frame just a head taller than her own. He sneered, viciously, and the blizzard was back in his eyes again. He made to grab her upper arms suddenly, before thinking better of it, and stopped, sighing exasperated.

"I don't understand what you want with me." He said quietly, running his long elegant fingers through his hair.

"I don't want anything from you." She whispered, her guts telling her that she was an awful liar, as his brow lifted curiously, his eyes peering at her searchingly.

"Yes you do." He determined, irritation seeping onto his features once more.

"I think, I wasn't lying before, I want you to be yourself. I want you to be better. I don't want to see you fail in life and be nothing. I want to see you happy. I don't think I've ever seen you happy." She told him, her words stumbling over one another as they came from her mouth, a crimson stain to her cheeks.

"Why?" He asked her quietly.

"I don't know." She replied, truthfully.

"Why do you think I'm not happy, why do you think I'm not myself, why are you apparently obsessed with me?" He whispered, almost furiously, the torment a fire in the coldness of his silver gaze.

"I am not obsessed with you!" Hermione gasped, stepping back from him as if he'd struck her. "I just want…more from you!" She continued, only to see Draco's face contort with rage.

"Why." He demanded flatly, closing the gap Hermione had made between them.

"Tell me, honestly, do you think I'm beneath you. Have you ever thought for yourself when it comes to this subject? I want to believe you're a better person than you've shown me all these years. I need there to be some good in you." She admitted, her voice quieter than a whisper, her eyes dead locked onto Draco's, a shiver of fear slipping down her spine.

"I haven't thought you're beneath me ever. Not even one day did I think and believe it. I can think for myself, and I do." He snarled, and Hermione's jaw unhinged at his statement.

"I don't believe you." She said thoughtfully, thinking of all the times he'd been so antagonistic towards her, towards Harry, towards Ron; and ended up dismissing his attacks at her favourite boys as they were happy to join in the fight.

"Believe it, because it's true. I've done nothing but envy you, Potter and Weasel since the day we got here, and you three showed how wonderful you all are. Potter with his perfect flying talent, and world saving abilities; all that fame he doesn't even want. You with your marks, and Weasel with his damn siblings. I grew up being told that should have been me, and you three come along and you ruin it for me." He snarled, leaning away from her, his tall frame slumping with anger. Hermione's head spun, her words at his trial ringing in her mind, her own voice admitting she didn't think Draco really believed in what he was saying; that she believed it came from envy. It was true, and she couldn't understand it.

"Why are you telling me all this, why aren't you or haven't you spat insults at me the way you used to? I keep waiting-"

"For what? Me to call you a mudblood and laugh in your face? Can't you accept that maybe something else you said to me was right and I hate it, and Merlin knows why, but maybe I'm trying to be…" he trailed off, running his hands through his hair in sheer frustration once more, humiliation crossing the lines of his face like lightning, and Hermione bit her lip. "Can't you believe that maybe, maybe I am tired of all this, hatred and spite, and if you say there is another way of living; maybe I'd like to attempt it, see what it's like? Is that too much of a stretch for you?" he finished, his face imploring her to think.

"I knew that you were better than what you portrayed all along, and-"

"Mr Malfoy; a word please." McGonagall interrupted, her face harried and deep lines of stress carved into the creases that once held signs of laughter on her stern face. The pair jumped, spinning to face their headmistress a blush creeping on to Hermione's cheeks as Draco nodded, stepping forward. McGonagall moved, letting Draco leave the room, and she slumped at once; wondering what she was going to say before the interruption.


	13. Arrogance and Offers

He followed his headmistress in silence, striding past ministry officials with a dignity he didn't feel under their scrutinising glances, looks of recognition reshuffling their expressions; features becoming tinged with hatred and sympathy, curiosity and disgust. He held his head high, his suit kept clean as always, the straightness of his back keeping him confident as he settled his eyes on the greying bun of Minerva McGonagall, she held the skirt of her robes up; allowing her feet a more fluid, speedy movement, her feet deftly hopping over debris that hadn't been touched.

He tried to remember the last time he had seen her in a state he'd call calm, and blinked with astonishment as he realised it was his sixth year; ever since she'd moved in a harried state, swooping in where she was needed, an unconventional guardian angel. Now she seemed she moved in the same state out of habit, and the sheer amount of places she needed to be at once. Owls flew to her almost constantly; an ever growing wedge of parchment becoming a seemingly permanent fixture underneath her arm, a stressed mask over her normally stern features the only expression she could muster.

He smiled at the back of her head affectionately, taking him by surprise as he realised he respected his Headmistress more than he would have thought, her allowance, however pressed it may have been of him living here was taken to heart, she allowed him a freedom in the castle he hadn't expected. The court order of his house-arrest here had surprised him, but her own reaction to it had surprised him more, she'd treated him like an adult. Her words of welcome when he'd returned, flanked by two aurors to explain the situation and supervise him back had stuck with him, she hoped that he had learnt a lesson she could never give.

Eventually they came to the statue that hid the passage to the head's office, and he tried not to question her choice of password as the statue shifted, the marble staircase revealed. She stepped on to it, and he dutifully followed; nerves beginning to kick in as he questioned why she'd want to see him. He fiddled with the cuffs of his suit, attempting to appear nonchalant as they stepped into an office that was beginning to look like a mess.

Owls were lapping up water from several dishes about the room; stacks of parchment becoming unravelled and rolling across the rich red carpet as a flap of a wing disturbed it, books peeked out under more scrolls, broken quills and empty ink pots dotted about the room. A house-elf slowly picking through the mess as the breeze from the window revealed itself to be where the owls were able to enter and exit. The headmistresses desk was covered, not a bare inch of wood to be shown, the chairs either side of the desk the only flat surfaces not touched by ink and parchment. Draco concealed his shock, and McGonagall swished around the desk, almost throwing herself into the high backed chair of the head.

"Take a seat Mr Malfoy," she said, gesturing to the empty chair opposite her, and flicking her wand with the other hand, attempting to regain some sense of control of the room as the empty ink bottles gathered up on a table to be refilled, the broken quills flew to a bin, and the rolls of unravelled parchment defied gravity, rolling back up and settling once more on their precarious piles. "Please excuse the mess, putting a school back together proves more paper work than one would originally assume," she explained as Draco looked about, the unconcealed look of awe and surprise plain on his features.

"What is it all?" he asked, unaware it could have been rude.

"Letters from the ministry, confirming our finances, what we are able to get from them in terms of help putting the school back together, what they will supply us with. I'm asking for permission to hold several events over the school year for the good of the school. More letters from students begging to return, letters from parents asking if the school is safe, more letters from parents of muggle-borns with so many questions, letters from potential hires…" she trailed off, a great heaving sigh, and respect bloomed once more for the woman, his eyes glittered with admiration, and he turned in his seat, settling back; determining she deserved his full attention. "It's actually part of the reason I have asked to speak with you Mr Malfoy, I have just received permission; or more so a blessing to offer you something." She said, straightening up in her chair, picking up a letter with the emblem of the ministry at the top.

"Blessing to offer me something?" Draco asked, unable to mask the confusion again; the entire experience was becoming perplexing.

"I am going to offer you the position of Head Boy, Mr Malfoy; and I suggest you listen to my reasoning clearly before answering. I am sure you're aware we have just had a war, and while it seems like you would be the worst idea for Head Boy; it is actually why you are the best option I have. The wizarding world needs to demonstrate to its young that we can forgive and learn from our mistakes; that we can move on. This means both sides of the war Mr Malfoy; both sides. I am offering you the position of Head Boy because you are a Death Eater, cleared of any wrong doing by the ministry, and a Slytherin. If any house is going to come out of this suffering the most, it's Slytherin house. We need true house unity. If Slytherin feels like it can come out of the worst part of its history with a newly appointed Head Boy from their own house, it may change the opinions of those difficult members. If you can make the best out of your appointment of Head Boy, and I mean you do the job well, fairly, and the only complaints I hear about you are ones of people just not liking that you are Head Boy; then the message it will send the wizarding world will be a great one. It will show that Hogwarts sticks to its word of forgiving, trying to get the best out of people, that I trust the ministries decisions on things; and that they were right to clear you of your accused crimes." She explained, her steely eyes peering at him almost challengingly; he listened in shock, pinned to the back of his chair, astounded at the offer she was putting towards him. Her reasoning was solid, and the idea of true house unity intrigued him, memories of his house being cheated out of the cup a couple of years floating to the forefront of his mind. "I assume you have questions." McGonagall said, nudging him out of his thoughts.

"Of course," he replied, his brow furrowing, "do you really think offering me Head Boy is the best idea? You don't think I'll abuse the position, you don't think parents will hate it?" He asked, a sneer almost forming on his mouth, his silver eyes sparkling with upset.

"I think it is the best option I have." She told him truthfully, and Draco felt as if he'd been slapped, "you were a popular member of Slytherin house, and you were able to lead it's prefects effectively, even when that ridiculous inquisitorial squad was put in place by-" she shook her head, freeing herself of the tight lipped anger that was beginning to develop as Draco cringed inwardly, keeping his face a polite listening mask. "Slytherin will need someone capable to look to, someone who can demonstrate how best to behave after this war. Many children will be coming from families who are now broken by the court cases. Yours included; the way you have handled your own trial, your personal losses is admirable. You have also funded many repairs this school has desperately needed on top of your fine. If this is all a ploy by you for some unfathomable reason, it is working, but even if you aren't Head Boy, your actions are being watched. You need to think about how you will enter the wizarding world after Hogwarts. Either as a respected Head Boy, or as a lone Slytherin member. Or will you leave it as the Head Boy who was stupid enough to abuse his position after a devastating war; proving the ministry wrong, who won't take that kindly, and throw away any chance he had at being accepted into the world as a responsible adult who was forced into questionable acts. I think we both know you're not stupid enough to throw it away. I don't expect being Head Boy will be easy for you should you choose to accept, but the world will judge you whatever you do, it is this judgement that makes you my best choice for Head Boy. The Minister agrees with me." She finished, peering at him over the tops of her glasses, her gaze scorching.

Draco relaxed in his chair, thinking it over, his mind realised that Hermione was the Head Girl, and how it would look should he be Head Boy beside her. A member of the Golden Trio, leading with a former member of the opposition, clearly something must have happened to have him in such a trusted, respected position. Thoughts of Hermione's arrogance not even an hour ago flittered to the front of his mind, and he smirked slightly; wondering what she'd think should she discover what he'd just been offered now, and why he was being offered the position. He met McGonagall's gaze, and another jolt of shock shot down his spine. The head of a rival house was genuinely trying to help him. She was right about how he'd leave Hogwarts, the press was being frequently hexed by the teachers of the school, once they'd realised it was easy for them to get there, a constant dribble of photographers and eager reporters had been spotted sneaking about the school. If he was reported to be Head Boy, and a good Head Boy, people were going to be less likely to shun him, but as a normal student of the school, it would appear he couldn't be trusted ever again despite the clearance of his charges. He used to be a prefect, and losing that would send a message to the world again. He sighed, realising that in the post war world, everything was a message, and even though the fall would be harder should he fail, the understanding was clear; McGonagall actually trusted him.

"I accept the offer Professor, and thank you." He added at the end, recognising just how much fighting McGonagall had probably had to do to be allowed to offer him such a position. He closed his eyes, realising that if it were a year ago, he'd have had the position, no questions asked. Now, after a war, after his trial, he was a risk. A risk she thought was worth fighting for. Shame and pride burned together, a riot in his chest. "I ask that you let me tell Granger in my own time that I am now Head Boy, especially as I'll need some way to break the ice that we will be working and…living together this year."

"I think I can allow that," She agreed, her shoulders slumping in relief, her eyes looking over all the letters she would have to reply too. "Just do it by tomorrow as I will need the pair of you to help with the building of the eighth year dormitory and your own rooms."

"I will tell her by tomorrow."

"Thank you Mr Malfoy, you may leave, and I look forward to seeing how you will do as Head Boy." She dismissed him, a slight rare smile at the corners of her mouth; and Draco stood to leave, the desperation to do her proud burning bright within him.

He left the office, the gentle hooting of owls as they arrived and left vanishing as he closed the door, a sense of elation drifting over him and hurrying his feet as he rushed to find Hermione. Their bizarre conversation from earlier slowing him almost immediately, as his thoughts drifted over her. She was arrogant; more so than he'd expected, but the times when they'd managed to just sit together, or help put the castle back together had been highlights of his summer. When they worked together, he enjoyed being around her. The time she had fled to Andromeda's and had taught him how to hold the child properly had made him unnaturally happy, and the sight of her with her witty come backs was something he had come to enjoy; but the assumptions, the needing to be right, and her expectations began to put a dampener on his curious emotions. He sighed; a couple of portraits turning to look at him curiously as he passed, as the realisation he still wanted to get to know her, possibly be her friend rose over all her issues.

His feet took him to the library unbidden; the pathway familiar despite the rubble in the way, the lack of suits of armour, the hole where a damaged portrait should be. The oak double doors neared, swung open to allow for books to zoom in, a strong wind whipped up by the open windows he could see. The walls sparkled, the floor shone, and the varnish of the shelves and desks gleamed. He stepped in, to see Hermione up a ladder, her hair in a top knot, wisps of brown curls escaping and trailing down her neck. Her long, slender legs keeping her steady on a ladder as she read the title of a book, slotting it between another couple.

"Hermione," he called, walking further into the depths of the now half way finished library. "I'm impressed with the progress!" He continued as she dipped her head down to look at him, the conversation from earlier forgotten. She smiled, a warm, genuine smile that made her eyes sparkle and began to step down the ladder, she managed to reach the floor as he reached the bottom of the ladder, and they looked at each other awkwardly a moment, before the new familiarity of their brand of conversation settled upon them again.

"Yeah, I never would have guessed the cleaning would have been the fastest part; but all the walls, shelves, floor, desks, chairs…everything, all cleaned; even the books." She exclaimed in awe, tracing her finger over the spine of a leather bound tome that now seemed glossy with a reverence.

"Well house-elves are very thorough and efficient." He replied, about to tell her of his new position of Head Boy as her shoulders tightened, and an irritated expression passed over her features. A laugh, cold and dry burst from his lips before he could stop it, and she looked at him shocked; her brown eyes wide and confused.

"You're such a hypocrite." He began, feeling a whole well of emotion bustle to be free; her eyes widened further, and her mouth began to set in an insulted line, the familiar expression of her thinking wildly glimmering behind her eyes. "I've seen you use house-elves yourself, but you hate it when they're used by anyone else. Have you actually spoken to the house-elves here lately? They're beside themselves with joy. McGonagall treats them like she does anyone else; they're well homed, well fed, and happy. Yet here you are, being a complete hypocrite."

"I am not a-"

"You know what else? You're beyond ridiculous. You pissed me off so much earlier, just assuming that I meant my blood was better than yours. I said it was good using my blood because blood is supposed to be the stronger offering to give. The more blood, the better. That's how I meant it, but no. You went off on a whole pure-blood rant. I understand we're dying out by the way. I hadn't realised how many of us are now destroyed, but I do now thanks to you. I don't know if you've realised how incredibly prejudiced you are yourself, but you really are something else. You apparently want me to change Granger, which is great; honestly, thanks for having so much faith in me. Then you cling to the prejudiced ways yourself, assuming such things like I still believe my blood is better than yours. I stopped believing in that shit a long time ago. Not that you'd believe it or care; but don't you think it's funny how you can sit there lording over the fact you helped free me from Azkaban, but you think you're better than me because you're muggle-born, and 'your blood will save the wizarding world'. Don't demand change from me and not change yourself. Honestly, you're going to make a shit Head Girl if you don't change that way of thinking as soon as possible." He ranted, the freedom of those words forcing him to take in deep breaths, he could feel a snarl developing on his lips, his eyes narrowed as he stared at her ever growing angrier face. Her arms were crossed, and she seemed livid, her lips white.

"Slytherin house has a history of-"

"You are simply unbelievable." He interrupted her again, the sound of her voice adding fuel to the fire he was finding almost impossible to put out; he found he didn't want too. He stumbled backwards slightly taking in her expression, of arrogance, and sheer anger began to radiate from him. "I bet you think Slytherin House is going to be the worst house to deal with when school returns." He snarled at her, his eyes sparkling furiously, and she paled, regarding him with the first hints of fear. She opened her mouth and closed it again, and the cold laughter he'd spat at her before began to bubble out of his mouth again.

"I want you to do something for me Hermione," he sneered, watching her resist a tremble as he stepped closer, the action fuelling him on. "I want you to pretend you are a Slytherin, and we're back at the final battle. Slytherins have just been asked to choose their loyalties. You know what Slytherin did; the majority of us ran. Only a few of us stayed to fight, and those who did were stupid. Or we were trapped. We didn't have a choice. Think about why they ran Granger. Think real hard. Have you forgotten how many Slytherins were raised by Death Eaters? Lots of us. We were essentially being asked to choose between accidentally murdering our parents, or our aunts, or our uncles, cousins, our friend's parents; and murdering the people we grew up with. Shared lessons with. Sat next to in class, or was taught by them. You ever had to murder someone Granger? You ever been told you have to kill someone? It's not something I wanted to be. Not something anyone should chose to be. _Especially when you know who you'll be killing. Especially when you don't even believe in what you're supposed to be killing them for._ Lots of Slytherin house never believed in the pure-blood supremacy ideals. Lots more than you'd ever expect Granger, and it sickens me to think that someone like you, who still thinks you're above everything in the war will look down on people who fled so they didn't have to accidentally kill, or maim, or harm the people they loved. It's not going to be easy to be a Slytherin this year, and don't you dare think you can get away with continuing prejudices that you claimed to fight when you still hold them yourself. You're Head Girl, you're supposed to be the bastion of good, and show everyone else how to act. Yet here you are. Demanding I become better, scolding me about blood when, when was the last time I called you a mudblood Granger? Open your narrow minded eyes. The world isn't in books." He hissed, and her face had paled, her arms hung loosely at her sides, and her eyes were filled with unspoilt tears.

"I find your kind of attitude repulsive. I've suffered losses too. They might not have been the best people but I grew up with them. Now they're gone. I would have thought you wanted to honour your dead by trying to bring a new world into action like you said you would, not continue the old one. I may have believed in the pure-blood nonsense when I was younger, and you may believe I'm a spiteful, vicious bully still, but at least I can admit I was wrong; and at least I feel some remorse for what I did" He finished, feeling lighter, better; happier.

He peered at her, looking her over properly, to see her tremble. Her lower lip almost jutting out in a spoiled, upset pout; her face devoid of colour and her deep brown eyes dull behind the sparkle the tears gave. She wouldn't look at him, and something inside of him broke, a guilt he had felt so often recently developing, and starting to course through his veins. She nodded finally, moving her hand up to her cheek to wipe away the first tear that had spilt, and he swallowed, softening.

"I want you to be better." He echoed her words to him at her softly, his expression imploring. She turned to face him, and smiled weakly, an action he returned with all the kindness he could muster. She nodded again, as another tear fell, and Draco began to feel painfully awkward. Watching her cry, tears he'd just caused wasn't as entertaining as it once used to be; now it hurt.

"Look, you need to be here tomorrow, as McGonagall is building the eighth year dorm tomorrow with the heads rooms. I'll see you then." He said softly, turning on his heel and fleeing the Library as fast as he could, wishing his feet would take him outside to the lake as fast as they could, the desire to think everything over burning him dry; the wish for Hermione to do as she kept badgering him to do strong.

He wanted to get to know her. A kinder; better, her.

:: :: ::

Hermione watched him go silently; her whole body alight with pain and sheer humiliation. Spiteful anger had reared its ugly head first, but as he'd ranted at her, intimidating with his blizzard like eyes, the sharp edges of his features taking on murderous angles, and the elegant, lithe danger of his body leaning over her; she'd listened.

Shame now drenched her, and odd emptiness somehow managing to exist despite the agony she was in. His words had pulled at her, and she bit her lip, wiping away more tears as she thought over what he'd said.

She was a hypocrite, but not over house-elves, over her demanding he improve when she'd jumped to conclusions earlier. When she kept waiting for him to snap at her, insult her, humiliate her the way he had done years ago before a war had begun to ensnare them both. She'd stood at his trial, bleating words of how she thought he could do better, sat at a press conference saying how she wished he could be himself for once, and yet she hadn't learned as much as she thought she had from the war. The words of Luna's father Xenophilius swept through her, reminding her that he thought she was narrow minded, unwelcoming to the idea of anything that isn't in books. She shivered, hating hearing Draco repeat words she'd scorned months ago.

His words over Slytherin house alarmed her. She hadn't even considered half of what he'd snarled at her; how of all houses, Slytherin would be torn the most. She remembered modifying her parent's memories with a stab of horror and sobbed loudly, sinking against the shelf, her hands clutching above her heart as her face scrunched up, tears running rivers down her cheeks, and over her neck, soaking into the light cotton of her blouse. She'd never even considered the thought that they would be fighting against those who had raised them, which children would have been asked to harm people they'd loved and still did love. The history of a house didn't make the person who resided in it, she realised shamefully, thinking of Malfoy and how he'd admitted his choice had been completely removed from him when he became a Death Eater. She imagined having to fire stunning spells at people in hoods and masks, hoping that they weren't her mother or father, and realised she wanted more than anything to not think like that. Not have to imagine it.

Her brain sought out thoughts of Draco once more, and she cringed painfully, realising that he really was changing, seeking out a self that was more suited to him than she'd expected; his insults had tailed off a long time ago, and he was kind to her. He was already better, and he was right. He had suffered losses.

She remembered the picture of him following his raving father out of the court room, knowing that within a few hours the man who had raised him would be a shell, a heart beating, lungs inflating, but nothing else. She remembered Crabbe incinerating himself in the room of requirement, and she remembered that Narcissa was having to stay in a guest home on the Malfoy lands, the manor obliterated by an enraged Voldemort. He'd lost friends, family and his home. He'd almost lost his own freedom for an action he wanted no part of. Of course he'd change the moment he was free. The moment he was able. He couldn't lose anything else.

His words calling her a prejudiced hypocrite stung her, but learning that he was repulsed by her made her flesh wish it was inside out; the agony of it shocked her. She wanted him to like her, she wanted him to want to be friends with her, and she wanted to be someone he could like.

She'd work on herself; she'd be a great Head Girl, she'd be better.

With a final, heaving sob, she curled up on the floor of the library; crying for the first time in a while for all the losses she'd experienced in the war. She cried for the funerals she couldn't bring herself to tear up at, she cried for all the times she'd forced herself to be busy when she couldn't manage it, she cried for not crying earlier.

She grieved, and took the first tentative steps in being better.

Because she had to be better.

For herself.


	14. Room and Closeness

AN: I just want to say a very, very, _very_ big thank you to everyone who has read and reviewed, favourited, followed, all of that wonderful stuff. Your kindness is just so sweet. Another note is to say I do read your reviews! I also try to take them into account, and fix issues in the story should you note them. I realise that I've been posting a lot recently also, this may slow; due to work commitments in the very near future. I also have *_every_* intention of finishing this fic (I can't stand unfinished fics!) and I have another one planned for the future. Thank you once again; I hope Restoration continues to entertain!

Draco had sent her a short note via owl of where to meet himself and McGonagall, his script precise, neat and somehow very masculine informing her that a statue of a witch with a phoenix on the sixth floor was where they would meet. A short explanation that he was sending her the note and not McGonagall, due to the headmistress seemingly being swamped with work; and Draco…offered. Hermione had blinked with shame, realising that again, this was just another attempt of Dracos' to change, to be someone pleasant to be about. His snapping at her in the library had shamed her more than she cared to admit, but she struggled to find flaws in her character the way Draco had clearly found his and changed. She grudgingly admitted that she held prejudices, and decided to do her best to nip it in the bud; his comment that she'd be an awful Head Girl otherwise had hurt her deeply, the wish to do well in the position had been a thing she'd been looking forward to carrying out once the term started.

She pulled on her cargo shorts, the freshness of her new clothes still something she was getting used too, slipping on a t-shirt that she decided she didn't mind if it got ruined. Draco had only said they were building the dorms, and she'd realised she had little to no idea as to what that would actually mean. She walked out of the Gryffindor common room, looking it over fondly, and realising that where ever she lived next year, she very much hoped it looked a little like this place. The open, welcoming atmosphere had been one of the reasons she loved her house so much; even if they were party animals. The portrait swung open as Hermione charmed her hair up into a high pony tails, cursing the loose ends that swung free, framing her jaw line. The cut she'd had in Ottery St Catchpole had been inches too short, and despite it being faux dreadlock free; it was now constantly in her face. She smiled, turning into the corridor that lead to the stairs, realising it was nice to have such a petty worry for once.

A flash of bright red hair, and a stocky figure ambled in front of her, and she gasped as they collided.

"Bloody hell. Sorry Hermione." Ron apologised, grabbing hold of her as Hermione stumbled on the steps. "I came to get you, thought I'd surprise you." He explained, rubbing the side of his nose awkwardly, a redness appearing where they'd bumped together.

"You're helping today?" She asked him, shaking herself off and meaning to go down the stairs.

"Yeah, McGonagall sent a mass owl to the Order, asking us all for help whenever we can, I told her I'd be available, and she said to come along today. Word is, she hasn't asked the Ministry for help in the actual fixing and sorting of the castle, and Shacklebolt only sends people he knows are trust worthy to give offerings and help. Lots of suspicion still about in the Ministry; you wouldn't believe how corrupted the whole place was." He told her his voice low as they reached the sixth floor together. Hermione's face contorted slightly, her mind simply where she hadn't expected it to be, as she wondered if Ron knew about Draco helping out as well. Thankfully, the redhead seemed to have missed her expression as he smiled at her, swinging a friendly arm about her shoulders, guiding her to the witch and phoenix statue.

McGonagall was already there, Draco in yet another suit much to Hermione's amusement, his face a slight scowl as he registered Rons' arm about her shoulders, and a small thrill flared through her at the thought he could be jealous. She dismissed it, realising it was more her own hopes than reality, a disappointment replacing the thrill.

"Mr Weasley, Miss Granger," McGonagall greeted as Draco pushed himself off the wall, his sharp strong features carefully schooled to give nothing away, but a solemn nod of greeting towards the pair of them.

"Professor, Ferret." Ron replied his smile warm for his old teacher, and cold; hate filled for Draco, and Hermione sighed. McGonagall arched an eyebrow, her lips pulled together tightly, and she pulled her wand from her pocket.

"Professor Flitwick and Professor Vector were kind enough to stop by and actually create the rooms you are staying in, so we don't have as much to do as originally thought. However, it must be cleaned and decorated. Mr Malfoy, Miss Granger, pay attention especially." She turned to the witch and the phoenix, and with her wand, dragged the tip down the birds back. The statue shuddered to life, the witches face turning serenely to Professor McGonagall.

"Password?" the witch asked, her voice gentle, almost song bird like and Hermione realised this was the entrance to the eighth year common room and dormitory.

"Computer." McGonagall said in authoritive tone, and both Ron and Draco looked stumped, Draco seemingly sounding the word he'd just heard out in his head, his mouth repeating the word soundlessly. "The passwords will be something to do with the muggle world this year," she explained as the witch stepped to the side, the bricks behind her shuffling away like the entrance to Diagon Alley. Hermione stared with amazement, the portrait passageway she loved seemingly paled in comparison, as Draco looked slightly disappointed.

The wall stopped it's shuffling, and a short corridor leading to a much larger room opened up, McGonagall walked in, her usual swift strides clicking on the stones as Ron followed her curiously, Draco gesturing with his hand for Hermione to go first, and she smiled at him; following Ron.

The room was completely empty, but large. Two ceiling high windows were either side of a large fireplace, with two doors at opposite sides of the room much like the Gryffindor common room. With another swift sweep of the room Hermione realised that the window ledges were deep; obviously intended to be somewhere for people to sit, and that a large chandelier hung from the ceiling already. She looked at Draco questioningly, and he shook his head, as she noted the floor was still carpet less, a layer of dust over it.

"Each member of the eighth year will have their own room, not a shared dorm. I have been reminded one to many times that despite the fact you should have remained children; war has intervened." She sighed, weariness deep over her stern figure. Hermione nodded, holding back a sigh herself, as Draco seemed utterly uninterested. "Mr Weasley, if you would be so kind as to get Mr Filch please, he has the furniture for the room; you should find him on the third floor." Ron nodded, and left the room as Hermione and Draco continued to look about the room impressed with the size of it.

"Which side is the girls and which side is the boys?" Hermione asked suddenly, realising that she hadn't been told, and McGonagall smiled slightly; wistfully.

"You get to pick, the rooms are not with protective spells." She told her as Hermione gasped, Draco's slender brow rising curiously. "You are legally adults now. You are of age. You are simply returning to do a school year you were unable to do. I am also aware I cannot tell adults to not seek comfort after a war; whatever that comfort maybe. I don't like it, but I am not stupid. I will however say that if a student not belonging to the eighth year is found passing through the door to the dormitories; the punishment will be quite severe. I may be able to look over some rules due to your ages; but not for the whole school." She explained, a stressed and disapproving crease at her brow, and Hermione blushed as Draco looked at her with a mix of respect and amusement. "Now; for the Head's quarters." She continued, turning back on herself to the short corridor that they had just entered from. She looked to the left, her hand running against the wall until she found a brick. She gently pushed it, and then walked through the wall as if it wasn't there.

"That's a better entrance." Draco commented, copying her actions immediately, Hermione hurrying after him. The wall smothered her briefly, not unpleasantly, but it gave her the sensation of walking through a sheet of water with a warm temperature. She found herself facing a winding set of stairs, and she smiled immediately, realising she'd be high up like the Gryffindor tower once more. She climbed, chasing both Draco and her old professor eagerly, until the end of the stairs came, and a door faced her.

"Extra precaution, just in case someone finds this room and they're really not supposed to, you are to tap your wand onto the doors handle to enter. The handle will only respond to three wands. No more, no less, unless I tell it too. So, Mr Malfoy, Miss Granger, if you would be so kind as to tap the handle." She explained, as she tapped the golden handle with her own wand, Draco following suit immediately, intrigue playing over his features.

The door swung open at Hermione's wand touch, and a smaller, but somehow much cosier room greeted them. The room also had a window seat, and a small fireplace, two doors were next to each other directly opposite them, whilst a third door was tucked in the corner on the wall opposite the fireplace. It was a surprisingly homely room, even without furniture and decorations.

"Opposite you are your bedrooms, you can choose which ones, and the door to your left is the bathroom. I will be sending up your furniture later, and the noticeboard. The noticeboard is tied to each of the noticeboards in the house common rooms. When you announce something, simply stick it on to the board, and a duplicate shall appear on the house boards." She rattled off, as if she simply had too much to say in far too little time. "I will send you some house-elves to help with the cleaning, but I can't help I have a meeting to attend to. I will return later to check on your progress." She explained turning to leave as Hermione's brain went into over drive.

The door clicked shut, and the sound of footsteps left her quickly, and she turned to Draco, a stunned expression on her face.

"She must only be showing you this room if you're…"

"Surprise Hermione." He drawled an amused smirk across his lips as his eyes sparkled, and he rested on his heels, his hands in his suit pockets as he regarded her. She gasped her mouth working like she wanted to say something, delight coursing through her veins as she tried to hold back delirious laughter. She would be with Draco this year, living together. The idea of it made her ridiculously happy despite their recent conversations. She grinned at him, her eyes alight with her joy, and she reached out to take his hand like she would Harry or Ron's before catching herself.

"Congratulations!" She gasped out finally, as Draco laughed at her, clearly pleased.

"Happy?" He asked, this time curiously and almost concerned.

"Yes actually…I am." She admitted, and Draco looked relieved. "Look…" she continued a shyness she'd never quite experienced before suddenly smothering her like a blanket. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry about a lot of things, like assuming things about you; holding onto beliefs when you're clearly trying to be…what I should be. I would like…if it's possible…I'd like it if we could be friends." She admitted, gazing into his silver eyes with hope, and he smiled, softly, but genuinely. His strong pointed features became so happy that it melted her heart, the realisation he was so very attractive when he was happy making her squirm inwardly with thoughts she wasn't ready to admit she had yet.

"I'd like that Hermione. Start over?" He offered holding his hand out for her to take.

She took it, and a sudden jolt of electricity snapped through the pair of them. His long, soft fingers gripped her hand with a gentle firmness, encasing her hand like the warm glove she'd always needed. The callouses on his palm were rough, but somehow very soft; she wrapped her own fingers about his hand as best she could, but her hand was almost dwarfed by his. A blush began to creep up Hermione's cheeks, and she smiled softly, holding Draco's friendly gaze with her own thrilled one. He smiled back, another heart meltingly attractive smile that made her stomach flip, and she opened her mouth to speak.

"Hermione Granger," she introduced herself, "insufferable know it all."

"Draco Malfoy, foul, evil, loathsome little cockcroach." He replied, giving her hand a slight squeeze; as if he were about to drop it. He didn't, and Hermione made no move to pull her hand away. "We ought to go back down stairs and make a show of cleaning before Weasel comes back up here with our furniture." He commented, turning towards the door, her hand still within his. He squeezed it once more, and let go, copying McGonagall's actions moments earlier, his wand pulled out at the ready. A deep, startling sense of loss drenched Hermione the moment his hand left hers, and she blinked, attempting to pull herself back together; ignoring the desire to find a way to touch him again.

She followed him, still trying to smother her startled feelings as she stepped down the stairs, retrieving her own wand from her pocket; distracting herself with thoughts of how thankful she was Molly had adopted her into the Weasley clan and taught her house keeping spells. Anything to get her unexpected wish to hold Draco's hand again. Anything.

The stone was sparkling once more, and she smirked, knowing Draco had started to clean with his mysterious spell; going over as much area as he could before Ron arrived. She turned, entering the room she'd be spending her time in the months to come with her wand out; relief she hadn't expected to feel as she realised that Ron hadn't arrived yet. The house-elves popped into the room again, snapping their fingers in the way house-elves did, and as the room was smaller than the library she smiled to herself, realising she'd get to see how the room was to be decorated faster. She casually turned her wand to the windows, setting them to shine as she watched the house-elves absently; the words Draco had spat at her the day before coming to mind. He was right; they seemed elated, as if they'd never enjoyed themselves more. Everywhere they touched began to shine in a way she'd never seen before, her thoughts coming back to Kreacher and Dobby, who had reacted well to kindness. She wondered if this was what they were capable of when treated as well as Draco said they were when the door opened again, and Ron entered, followed by a disgruntled looking Filch.

"Hermione, you should see the stuff McGonagall has bought for your common room." He said to her, his voice filled with awe, and she flicked her eyes to Draco, who looked for the entire world like he wasn't amused at Ron's obvious adoration of the things he had supplied.

"Dopple" Filch grunted, gesturing to a house-elf who had scurried to meet him the moment he had stepped in the room. "Set the carpets down, and then finish cleaning the tower; Minerva needs you and your team in the Ravenclaw common room next." He told the elf who nodded, his fingers snapping away, and a large roll of fabric appeared. With a sudden burst of laughter and realisation, Hermione bolted for the door before the carpet could right itself, and land on top of her head. Catching on, Draco followed her, the carpet only just coming to a horizontal fit within the room as he tucked himself into the corridor, with a dull thud it dropped to the floor. It rippled, and spun violently, a burst of deep; sumptuous purple colour revealed as it settled flat on to the floor. Like liquid it expanded, reaching for the edge of the room. The carpet slipped underneath the doors each end of the room, slipping into the bedrooms that lay beyond, and she literally jumped, feeling the carpet snap at her toes. She heard the men behind her copy, and giggled, her eyes watching to see if it would slip through the wall, decorating her own rooms. It did, and she smothered a delighted grin; the house-elves popping out of the room as she turned back to see everything settled; shining and ready to be decorated.

"Your furniture is outside." Filch grunted, leaving them be; a soft meow trilling at his ankles, dark mutterings heard as he shuffled down the corridor.

"Get the beds in the rooms first, it'll be easier." Draco commented, moving to one of the doors and opening it, waving his wand to freeze it in place. He disappeared beyond it, the sound of him opening several doors following him. Ron seemed to look about the room curiously, as if he'd realised someone was missing.

"Where's McGonagall?" He asked Hermione, his brows furrowed, his blue eyes glittering with something Hermione couldn't quite place but didn't like.

"She literally just left before you got here." Hermione lied, the memory of herself and Draco hands entwined in a 'do over handshake', flooding to the forefront of her mind, the hope she wouldn't blush pouring out of her. Ron's eyebrows shot up, he turned, looking to where Draco had just disappeared too; his ears turning red.

"You were all alone with the Ferret?" He asked her, roughly gripping her hands, and pulling her forward. He began to check her over, forcefully pulling her sleeves up; as if checking for bruises. "He didn't hurt you?" he continued, pulling at her collar as Hermione struggled against him.

"Ron!" She exclaimed, placing her hands on his chest and pushing at him, leaning away from him; "get off me!" She gasped, as Draco's unamused expression appeared behind Ron's shoulder.

"I may have only had Parkinson as girlfriend, but even I know that's not how you treat a lady." He commented, the makings of a furious snarl upon his lips. Ron stopped his tugging at Hermione's clothes; releasing her the moment Draco's voice entered the fray. His ears became maroon, his cheeks following as his hands clenched into fists.

"I was simply checking to see if you'd harmed her." Ron retorted, "Considering your type should be in Azkaban." He spat, as Draco looked as though a feral snarl would rip from his throat. His eyes glittered dangerously; he tipped his head forward threateningly, as if gearing up for a fight, and his sharp cheekbones mirrored his jawline, giving him a lethal expression.

"I just said Weasel-King; I know that's not how you treat a woman." He said coldly, as Ron loosed a cold laughter.

"You don't even see her as a woman! You see her as less!"

Draco carefully and deliberately turned his gaze to Hermione; as Ron watched him furiously. Draco tipped his head down further, his eyes lingering on Hermione's feet, before travelling slowly over her legs. The force of his observation made Hermione tremble slightly, her eyes glued to his searching eyes as she felt them trace up over her hips, stomach, chest, staying there for longer than Hermione thought he should have, before continuing up; over her shoulders, her neck, lips and meeting her eyes. Hermione's jaw dropped when she realised he had a mischievous sparkle there once more.

"I dunno Weasel-King, now you mention it, she does look a bit like a woman to me." He spoke, his eyes still lingering on Hermione; almost interested, as if he really had only just realised she was of the fairer sex. Hermione looked back, curious and wondering. Ron roared, and the punch he'd almost given him the day of Tonks and Lupins' funeral was unleashed, his fist colliding with Draco's jaw out of nowhere. Draco stumbled back, as if he wasn't quite sure where he was, a small trail of blood slipping from the corner of his mouth. He brought his snow white fingers to his lips, dabbing at the blood curiously, before looking at it. Before he even had a chance to register the crimson stain, Ron tackled him.

Hermione stared in horror, watching the two men tangle on the floor, Draco attempting to push Ron off him as Ron rained blows down upon him murderously.

"You. Stay. Away. From. Hermione." Ron grunted between vicious blows with his fists; aiming for Draco's face as Hermione blinked dumbly, the shock of the actions sinking in. She lifted her wand up; aiming with a strong tremble, and fired a stunning spell at her oldest friend.

Ron fell, slipping off Draco as if he were a silk handkerchief left to blow in the wind; and Hermione slowly walked over to Draco who had rolled onto his hands and knees, carefully pushing himself back onto his haunches; his body marked with the red welts that would become bruises in time; blood streaming from his nose and mouth.

"Thanks," he grunted, not looking at her as he leant forward, letting the blood drip on to the fabric of his suit trousers. The red was a stark burst of colour against the white of his skin, and shame burst to life once more in Hermione.

"Sorry I didn't do anything sooner, I didn't-"

"It's fine." He interrupted her, pulling his wand out and aiming it at his nose. He winced in pain as his nose seemed to rearrange itself in front of Hermione; once again becoming the pointed nose she recognised so well. He cleaned himself up, and left the room; the sound of him levitating furniture in as if nothing happened sparked Hermione's worry, as her stunning spell began to ware off Ron. He rolled himself over onto his back, blinking in confusion, a hand going to his temple as a table floated above him. He waited until it passed, settling with a gentle thud into the corner and sat up, clambering to his feet; his memory catching up with him.

"You stunned me." He said looking at Hermione with such an expression of hurt and betrayal Hermione felt sick.

"You were beating the life out of someone."

"No, I was beating the life out of Malfoy; not someone."

"Malfoy is someone."

"No, he's a Death Eater." Ron replied, bringing his hand up to his head once more; his blue eyes searching Hermione's face with confusion.

"Leave Ron, you're not helping."

"But-"

"Leave." She repeated as her otter burst from the tip of her wand again. She watched it go, sighing as she realised she'd been having to use that spell far too much of late. "I've asked Harry to get here, to take you home. You need to work out your anger. I can't be friends with you when you're like this. I've too much going on myself. I said I'd support you; I said I'd always help you, I want to talk to you about how you feel with Fred, but…you won't let me. You lash out at me, at Malfoy, at…Go home. Go beat a bludger about the house, and I'll talk to you at dinner tonight." Hermione sighed, as Draco levitated a bed into a room behind her, pretending not to listen.

"But-" Ron tried again, dumbfounded; a lost puppy expression falling over his features.

"No, you know I'm right Ron; you're not the only one who is hurting." She told him sadly, unable to meet his eyes as she hung her head, the steady stream of furniture entering the room from behind them the only distraction.

"Fine." Ron spat, his features contorting into rage once more. "I'll stay until Harry gets here."

Hermione nodded, seeing it was her best option, as another bed floated into the room behind her.

"You ought to start putting the beds into rooms so I can get more of them in," Draco commented dryly, restrained threads of anger seeping into his tone. He put a bed down upon another, and went out to collect another bed.

"Bossy Ferret," Ron grumbled, as Hermione copied Draco's earlier action, moving to open and lock the doors in place with her wand on the other side of the room. Hermione looked to see how many doors there were; curious to see how many of her year group were returning. Five separate doors faced her, and she slumped a little, realising that there would only be a few eighth year women or men. She came into the common room; slightly disappointed.

"Five doors" She said to no-one in particular.

"Six doors," Draco announced, "Not a bad turnout," he commented, as Ron levitated a bed through the door he'd just come through.

"Considering you're coming back, I'd say that's a fucking fantastic turnout." Ron said dryly, the distaste evident in his voice. Hermione struggled to not roll her eyes.

"Well, I can't blame people for not returning, in the big wide world there is less chance of running into you Weasel." Draco shot back, and Hermione blinked, realising that as far as Malfoy's wit went, it was lazy, bored; and almost as if he wasn't actually trying. She stared at him, surprise seeping into her as she realised he didn't want a fight at all not after their tussle, but Ron was baiting him, and Draco was obliging him to keep Ron happy.

"Guess who is returning?" Hermione asked, attempting to stop the verbal jabbing between the men, and Draco grunted.

"I know Greengrass and her sister will be, so that's one. Parkinson has been ordered to return. That's two. For the guys, I'm guessing Zabini and Nott, Zabini is too smart to miss out on school, and Nott…he just likes it here." Draco replied as Hermione's heart sunk at the confirmation of two Slytherin girls, one of whom had enjoyed being as spiteful as humanly possible all year; and the other was some mystery to her.

"The Patil twins are definitely returning, that's all I know, "Hermione spoke for the women, realising she had absolutely no idea about any of the men returning at all.

"Five Slytherins?" Ron spat, as another bed clunked through the hall, dropping onto the floor with a heavy clunk. "I feel sorry for you Hermione, dealing with all of them this year. At least we know one won't be the Head Boy." He shot, scowling at Draco with such venom Hermione started to feel extremely protective of Draco.

"I dunno about that," Draco sniggered, looking at Hermione with a mischievous sparkle, and she bit back a smile, realising Draco was eager to include her in the teasing of her childhood friend. "I'm quite certain either Zabini will have it if Longbottom doesn't get it." He chuckled and Hermione looked away, hoping Ron wouldn't find out Draco was Head Boy immediately.

Fresh footsteps entered, and a messy raven haired boy slipped into the room; looking between the three gathered with a harsh expression on his face.

"Ron." Harry said, gesturing for Ron to come with him; he threw a questioning glance at Hermione; who shook her head slightly as Draco spoke up suddenly.

"Potter, can I have a quick word with you?" He asked, and Harry blinked with astonishment.

"Yeah; I guess." He replied, and Draco nodded, gesturing for them to both leave. "Back in a moment," Harry said to Hermione and Ron, following Draco out the room with a quizzical expression on his face.

"If he beats up Harry-" Ron began and Hermione laughed coldly.

"For goodness sake Ron." She started, sighing as she looked her friend over. "Not everyone wants a fight." She defended him; although she was curious as to what he was saying to Harry, but she knew somehow he hadn't gone looking to beat a bloody pulp of the faux brother she called Harry.

Moments later, the two men walked back in, Harry looking slightly stunned, and Draco as if a huge weight had been lifted.

"Let's go mate." Harry said, nodding to Hermione kindly. "See you at dinner." Hermione smiled brightly at him waving at him in thanks as she levitated a piece of furniture up; suddenly desperate to get the rooms all sorted. She caught a glimpse of Draco out of the corner of her eye, the red welts were beginning to bruise over and she sighed, guilt forming in the pit of her stomach.

"I'll be right back," she said, before fleeing from the common room and up to Gryffindor tower before Draco even had a chance to register what she had done. She entered her room, throwing her trunk open and rummaging through it, searching for a bruise paste she knew she hadn't managed to finish. Sighting it, she grabbed it in triumph, before running down to her new abode, skidding to a halt as she realised all the furniture had been placed inside the room somehow; not cluttering up the hallway until she saw house-elves trail out and she grimaced inwardly, trying to shed the feeling.

She entered the room and gasped, realising that the common room was completely decorated; black leather sofas were carefully placed about the fire, a coffee table in the middle of them; bookshelves were placed by the doors to the room, while high backed chairs were either side of chess sets. A large round table was placed in a corner, chairs all about it, with ink and quills in the middle, while cushions and blankets were stacked on the window seats. Everything was black, save the floor, and on closer inspection; the Hogwarts emblem was its decoration. The room was still missing decoration for the walls, and several lamps, but the décor stunk of wealth and comfort. Everything she'd come to assume from a Malfoy. She smiled, surprised with the lavishness but cosiness, and realised Draco couldn't be heard on the lower floor. She turned; facing the wall she'd walked through earlier, and carefully walked to the heads apartment, her heart beginning to race suddenly.

She tapped her wand on the handle and the door swung open; revealing a decorated room again. A large, curved sofa was in front of the fire place, a coffee table in front of it; but large ornate desks were behind it, pressed up against the wall an elegant chair tucked underneath. She stared in awe, realising that the desks were like Madam Pinces' new one as a door opened; and Draco stumbled out of it.

He looked at her, and she blushed, realising he was covered in slight swellings and she held up the bruise paste kindly.

"Thanks for decorating, it's beautiful," she smiled gently, as Draco continued to stare, "use this." She continued, tossing him the small tube.

He caught it, and looked at it curiously, raising a brow at her as best he could.

"What is it?" He asked, coming to throw himself down over the sofa.

"Bruise paste, it doesn't kill pain, but it helps with healing." She commented as he began to unscrew the top.

"Explains why some of your nasty bruises vanished faster than they should have." He grunted, wincing with the effort of lifting his hand to his face.

"Oh let me." Hermione sighed; stepping around to him and taking the paste out of his hands. He threw an irritated look at her, but fell back, leaning against the sofas back carefully, a great sigh unleashed from his chest. She sat next to him, squeezing a little paste from the tube and onto her fingers. With trembling fingers, she began to apply it to a welt above his brow.

His skin was just as soft as his hands, but free of callouses, and Hermione fought a rising blush; Draco turning to look at her silently.

His silvery eyes observed her, his hand coming to grip her wrist gently, pulling her hand away from his brow.

"Thank you," he whispered.

"You're welcome."


	15. Discussion and Change

She sighed, heavily placing down her hand upon the desk; the crumple of parchment softening the hard wood beneath her wrist. Her other hand smoothed the ever deepening wrinkles that marred her fast aging skin. She closed her eyes, breathing in deeply, willing the stress away with every breath she took.

"Albus," Minerva McGonagall said to the man in the portrait observing her carefully, the oils in his painting shimmering with his movement. "I'm missing so much here. So much doesn't add up." She sighed, shifting a mass of parchment to uncover a book that was so touched by age the pages were almost worn thin.

"I will help the best I can," he replied, as the other portraits shifted behind him, each murmuring their agreement; some slipping into frames that was not theirs as if to demonstrate their willingness to help.

"The magic used…it doesn't make sense. Magic of that time was very wild; you could barely trust it. Source after source says this; that just binding the magical essence to the grounds would have been enough. Yet, we know that this isn't the case. Wands were developed a hundred years after this type of magic was becoming more commonly used, then the first warding spells another three hundred years after that. It doesn't add up. There is only a single documented case of combining verbal spells with the raw base magic of old." Minerva sighed once more, aware that she'd only just scratched the surface of all the issues that weren't quite adding together. "We are missing something Albus, and I feel it's very obvious, but we're just not seeing it. It's within fitting a type of magic traditionally used without a wand and incantation; to the use of both." She smoothed her hands over her head, patting her steely grey bun in place. Ignoring Dumbledore looking at her with the first twitches of a smile under his crooked nose.

"In fact, the only documented case of this kind of magic, fits when Hogwarts was founded but I refuse to accept the use of that spell here. I refuse." Minerva said shifting another pile of parchment and dropping it with a surprisingly weighty thud. Albus' silver brows lifted slowly, sympathetically and sadly as he regarded his old friend.

"Minerva," he said gently, encouragingly.

"No, I refuse it Albus. It is…illegal. Illegal beyond all senses of the word; it's as bad as Voldemort!" She whispered a distraught edge to her hissed tones.

"Times were different then; very different then." Albus replied, dipping his head with a great sigh.

"This cannot happen!" Minerva retorted her expression desperate, as if if she said it enough, she could unfurl the fabric of magic and replace it all with something better.

"Think Minerva, think on all the questions and what you learnt that day; you know it is so." Albus again prodded her gently, as her head fell into her hands once more, disparagingly.

"We cannot have another death." She moaned, unable to look up at him.

"Hogwarts and its lands aren't just a reserve; they're a portal into the wizarding world. These lands are practically unplottable. Love will make fix it half way; but the most powerful portal we know is-"

"Yes, Albus, I understand. It is death; it is leaving one world and entering another." She responded, almost as if she were to give up completely. "But a death; willingly given…Albus…it just cannot happen. We abandoned these magic's for a reason."

"But the spell is tied to the passing of a being is it not?" Albus asked her, all pretence of his friendly sparkle vanished.

"It is," she confirmed; sighing once more.

"You have your answer."

A knock on the door startled her, and she looked at the clock; wondering if she'd forgotten a meeting, only to find that it was still early morning.

"Come in!" She called, as Albus continued to stare her down knowingly. The doors handle shifted slightly, as if they were having a difficult time opening the door and self-consciously, her fingers gripped her wand warily. The door finally opened, and swung open to reveal Hagrid standing there, a silvery substance upon a rag, a grim expression over his giant features.

"Oh! Hagrid, come in, come in." She motioned, as the half-giant stumbled forwards. She looked at him fondly, knowing and liking the giant for his good heart, even if his lessons could be a little inappropriate.

"Yeh ought teh know Minerva; a unicorn has been slinkin' about the edges of teh forest. They don't usually do that. Keep to themselves they do. It's wounded." He finished, holding up the silver stained rag.

"Could it be the unicorn that gave its blood to us earlier?" She asked looking at the blood with concern.

"Nah, they heal too quick for it to be a real issue. This one is on its last legs." Hagrid mentioned and McGonagall's brow creased, thoughtfully. Her time in the wizarding world had taught her that every time humanity missed something; the animal world had picked up on it, and were working on fixing it or fleeing from it. She flicked her gaze up to Albus, who was looking at her with his sparkle back; but dread had seeped into the corners of her heart.

"Keep me updated Hagrid, let me know of its condition daily; do all you can for it. Don't try to capture it however." She warned him, as Hagrid bowed his head in understanding.

"Wouldn' dream of it." He replied, taking his dismissal and leaving. She watched him go, her heart heavy and she sighed once more. A death was needed to fix Hogwarts; a bridge between the oldest magics and the newer ones. A bridge between worlds. A bridge between things they would never understand. If a unicorn was preparing itself for death on the edges of her forest; her problem could be solved. The death sounded like it was being willingly given, but the idea of a mysterious creature famed for its purity; its strength of being so good turned her stomach. She felt strongly like they did not deserve the passing of such a creature. If the death wasn't for them however…

She fought back a retch, pushing the parchment away from her, unwilling to read of the muggle sacrifice any more.

:: :: ::

The four of them stood awkwardly outside of the room of requirement. Unwilling to throw insults, and unwilling to make idle conversation. Instead, furtive looks were thrown between the group, until Draco decided a statue looked unbelievably interesting and sauntered off to peer at the mans carved face as if it were the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

Ginny had taken the opportunity to throw him curious, but ultimately confused glances; whilst Harry simply peered at him with a tormented expression on his face. Hermione tried to gloss away her vision of him on their sofa; her hand on his brow, his hand gripping her wrist. The memory of it sent her emotions into a confused twist.

They'd all offered to help clean the room of requirement, as after a gentle reminder from Harry, and the acceptance that students would always be 'students', and go searching for what they shouldn't, the room of requirement and it's deadly curse would have to be sorted out. Minerva had been practising the counter charm in her spare time; which wasn't much at all, and had requested help with brushing the debris out; due to the unlikelihood of the house-elves being able to enter a room that had to be summoned. Even then, McGonagall was happy to admit she simply didn't want to risk the house-elves.

Footsteps began to approach them, and almost in synchrony, their heads turned to view the approaching Headmistress. In front of her, were several cages, within them sets of gloves. She levitated it all over a rock; and placed it down in front of them; her flustered face taking in a deep breath.

"I am sorry for being late; but I forgot about the chance of Ashwinders." She explained, gesturing to the cages, and with drawing her wand. It was then that Hermione noted she had a set of dragon hide gloves on already, and she opened a cage, retrieving the gloves for them all, and placing them on top. She slipped her gloves on; noting Malfoy's steadily greying expression, his mouth becoming a determined grim set line.

With her own determined expression, McGonagall began the pacing in front of the wall, summoning the room of requirement.

"With any luck, it would have burnt itself out, but if not, and it tries to escape; slam the door shut. Do you understand?" She asked them, pulling her sleeves back, her wand in her hand and her stern expression pride of place. They nodded, shuffling to be behind the door as McGonagall reached to open it. A deep breath taken.

She opened the door.

The heat blistered out at once; but darkness loomed.

They peered, curiously about the door to view an utterly black room. Everything had been charred. Everything was destroyed. Not even a hint of ochre smoulder on a page was left.

"Open the windows please; we need to let some of this heat out of the castle before it kills us all." McGonagall said, as she lit the tip of her wand instead, casually flicking orbs of light upwards, illuminating the room. Harry and Ginny had split to each window, casting it open and hanging their heads out as the cool air from the outside began to blow through the corridor. They sauntered back, and McGongall seemed to have a relieved expression upon her face.

"It doesn't look like there will be much work to do at all, I suggest you hunt for ashwinders, and please keep the door open. Set up some mops to clean the place; all this ash will do no one good, and I'm not risking ashwinders. Then you can leave." She told them, as an owl spied McGonagall from outside, and swooped in to land on her shoulder, its leg instantly outstretched in waiting. She sighed, looking between the owl and the small group and back again, before sighing in apology. Taking the owl and rushing the way she'd came.

"She seems stressed." Ginny commented, as Draco snorted.

"You have no idea; her office is just parchment and owls." He told her, as Ginny looked startled, before narrowing her eyes. Hermione recognised the expression as her waiting for what she had; the insults, the baiting, teasing laughter. Harry gritted his teeth, tormented once more.

"Let's get to it then," Hermione announced as Ginny took the first steps into the room, her wand at the ready.

"Check the corners first, for Ashwinder eggs, I don't think we'll find any live ones," Ginny said absently, nudging a pile of ash carefully with her foot, her wand at the ready. They crumpled beneath her, and she gasped, spying the little round eggs. Freezing them at once, she took them out and placed them into a cage. "Or not," She commented casually as she strode back in, Malfoy's amused expression delicately ignored, as Harry scowled behind her, his green eyes flashing his confusion.

He deftly summoned a bucket and mop; demonstrating the house hold charms Molly had taught them back at the burrow with an ease Hermione admired, setting the mop loose on the corner had just evacuated of eggs, Hermione copied.

Draco watched them all tentatively, his pallor still a deathly grey as he walked into the room, his eyes on the floor searching it so desperately Hermione stopped looking for eggs. He searched the floor, gently nudging larger piles of ash carefully, his mouth set in a grim line.

"What are you looking for Malfoy?" Harry called over, his voice stern.

"Crabbe." He replied, and Harry turned from him, his jaw setting with shame, anger; and sheer confusion. Hermione shut her eyes, remembering the chimeras, dragons, and the serpent that had sprung from Crabbe's wand, decimating all in its path. How it had taken it's caster with it. Uncaring.

"I don't…I don't think you'll find him." Hermione said gently, watching as Malfoy nudged another pile of ash, watching it reveal Ashwinder eggs. He froze them, and turned to Hermione, his winter eyes as cold as the blizzard behind them.

"Obviously," he responded in a droll tone, carefully picking the eggs up and placing them in a cage Ginny had brought in. Grief began to mar his features, and silence fell upon the awkward group; the cleaning of the room of requirement efficient and smooth as no-one was willing to provoke the other.

They cleared the room of eggs, and began to sweep the ashes out of the room, thick; heavy piles that clouded the air and made their clothes black. Their wands shot cleaning charms with little problem, the water becoming dark the moment it hit the floor. Eventually; after hard work, the floor became its usual colour, and the layer of ash began to vanish.

"Right," Harry announced, charming a last mop to wash and turning his wand on himself, vanishing the soot on his hands and face, "I'm taking the eggs down to Hagrid, we're done here. I'll see you later Hermione, Ginny…Malfoy." He added on the end begrudgingly, his face twisting with torment as he said it.

"Later Potter." Draco replied, not looking up from his mop, the part of his floor still drenched with water.

"Give me a moment Harry, I'll come too," Ginny said, as she charmed another mop in her place, cleaning herself off with her wand the way Harry had done, and picked up a cage of eggs herself. The pair went, Ginny throwing a smile to Hermione, and nodding at Draco; a similar confused expression upon her face and followed Harry out.

Hermione and Draco stood in the room for a moment longer, before with a great sigh, Draco seemed to copy Harry's ritual. Charming another two mops on top of his one to make sure the room would be clean.

"I'm getting food Hermione, you're welcome to join." He said to her, his tone completely emotionless as Hermione began to absently copy the actions of those before her. Soon, several mops were wiping up the last dregs of ash, and Hermione and Draco were walking in silence down to the kitchens.

They walked, a distance between them through the corridors, Hermione's mind becoming drenched with guilt, recognising that she thought of Draco yet more when she shouldn't be. When she should be reading the books from Flourish and Blotts on the school, when she should be with Molly Weasley, when she should be putting the school back together.

Their footsteps fell into time with one another, until a staircase approached, and Draco suddenly grabbed her.

His arm twined about her waist, pulling her roughly against his chest, his hand coming to settle over her mouth. He pulled her into an alcove before she could register what was happening. She struggled to turn in his arms, wanting to face him so she could see her hatred of him. Against her wriggling, Draco loosened his grip slightly and she spun about facing him instantly. He tightened his arm once more; and her eyes widened, her mouth opening to shout at him as Ginny's distressed voice came to them both.

"…Harry, this is going beyond a joke, I swear, if something doesn't change; if you don't tell me what's wrong we're done." She threatened, a clanking sound following, and Hermione assumed she'd placed the cage down. Her eyes had widened, and she caught Draco's eyes, his silvery gaze upon hers; amusement sparkling there. He took his hand from her mouth, letting it fall to his side as her lips began to mouth nothing in particular, her ears straining for Harry's response. Her raven haired brother seemed to be struggling with something, sounds of him pacing starting up in the corridor to the side of them as Hermione realised just how herself and Draco were right then.

He hadn't loosened his arm about her waist, and she was pressed; tightly, right up against his solid chest. She recounted how hard she'd had to struggle to move around to face him, and a blush began to form. Her eyes were still on his, searching, curious, and winter like eyes; their gazes locked. His breath, sweet and faintly minty blew at the strands of hair that made her fringe, and the smell of earthy, fresh cut grass throbbed from his being, overwhelming her. Tentatively, she moved her arms up, placing her hands on his chest carefully, and pushing backwards so that her eyes could take in his expression. His sharp features, which gave him such a lethal beauty when angry, were somehow softened by the darkness of the alcove, but his features were schooled into a plain expression, registering nothing. Nothing but the fierceness of that stare.

"Marry me Ginny." Harry eventually said, and Hermione's jaw dropped, Draco's blond brows rising in surprise. They stared at each other in the darkness, unable to rip their gazes away from one another as Ginny seemed to laugh dryly.

"Oh how romantic." She said sarcastically, as Harry made a strangled like noise. "Oh Merlin. You're serious." She followed it up with, and Hermione's shock registered further, her fingers absently gripping at Draco's shirt; scrunching the fabric up. Draco didn't move, but the arm he'd allowed to fall moved, closing Hermione into his unconventional embrace still further, his hand sliding up her back in a slow delicious movement.

:: :: ::

He'd pulled her into the alcove the moment he'd realised she hadn't heard the first wails of the Weasley girl, and Potter's distraught retorts. She'd continued stepping towards the stairs as if nothing was going on, seemingly so lost in her own thoughts she was going to stumble onto one of the most important conversations in Potter and the Girls' relationship. He'd grabbed her waist, dragging her behind a large statue that had its own inset in the wall and pulled her against him, inwardly restraining the urge to bury his face in the smell of her hair. She'd not made a sound much to his surprise, but then the memories of knowing she was on the run returned to him, and he paled as she struggled against him.

Of course she wouldn't scream. She may be arrogant and blind to the obvious, but she wasn't exactly as thick as she could make out she was. His grip had loosened on her, and he thought she would run, but instead she'd spun about to face him. He stared at her, sinking into those chocolate brown eyes with such inquisitiveness behind them he felt like he could melt under her gaze. She was blushing; her peaches and cream complexion flushing in such a charming way Draco couldn't understand why he'd never noticed it before. Never realised she had such a sweet vanilla like scent that spread into all his senses, drowning him in a heady joy.

"Marry me Ginny." Potter said, every inch of seriousness, as Hermione's jaw dropped a little. He felt his own brows rise as the Weasley girl laughed, and he continued to look at Hermione, the dim light framing her jaw softly, highlighting her heart shaped face so alluringly he tried not to swallow. The Weasley girl was taunting Potter with his lack of romance, seemingly not realising that he was serious as Hermione's hands tangled themselves in the fabric of his shirt. He moved his arm in reply, watching her soft lips part in yet more shock as he slid his hand up her back, taking in the gentle build of her body, before entwining his hand in her hair at the base of her neck. Her mahogany curls imitation silk; the smell of vanilla over powering as he disturbed her bushy mane. Her blush had deepened, and Potter seemed to be talking again.

"Of course I'm serious. If you accept we can be engaged for as long as you want. I don't care, I just want you to be mine; for the rest of our lives."

"Why have you been so off with me?" The Weaselette was asking, and his attention was on the possible engagement of the two, but Hermione…Hermione was enchanting.

"We were back after the war, and there was no issue. Nothing to do; nothing to take you from me. All I wanted was you. I wanted to be around you all the time. I literally wanted to be the clingiest man. You're the best person in the world Ginny. The best thing to have ever happened to me. I didn't want to scare you off, but I don't know how to not be full on now. I can have you. I'd rather keep my distance and keep you, than be all over you and lose you." He explained, as Hermione's eyes softened; clearly wooed by the words Potter was saying, she seemed to fall for them as if it was her he was speaking to and not the redheaded girl. A tendril of jealousy began to snap at his ankle and he leaned over her slightly more. His fingers curling into her hair, rubbing against the base of her skull, pressing her to him slightly more.

She was just so soft.

Everything about her was soft, sweet, simple.

"Harry, I don't think you understand wizarding weddings are different to muggle ones, ancient magic binds you together; it's incredibly difficult to separate." Ginny was explaining to him gently, but he was fighting impulse to rest his forehead upon Hermione's only she had raised a questioning brow at him, and he nodded, the movement seeming to become difficult. He wished more than anything that the stone would take them. A medusa from legends old would look upon them; freeze them so that he could hold the intriguing girl within his arms forever.

"Let's get married then Potter." Ginny said, finally, as Harry had repeated he was sure over and over; just as he was sure that Hermione was growing on him in a way he had never expected.

"We'll get you a ring whenever you want one, you choose; any ring." Harry said as the scraping of cages being picked up off the floor was swiftly followed by jaunty footsteps down the corridor; out of earshot.

:: :: ::

The moment the voices stopped, and the footsteps vanished, he disentangled himself from her; fleeing the alcove taking his severe gaze with him. Breaking at a run down to the kitchens she assumed.

She slid slowly down the frozen stone wall, using it to cool her; to wish her beating heart into some semblance of stillness. Harry and Ginny were engaged, and wizarding marriages were difficult to leave. She thought briefly over her own future, realising she'd never really thought of a future career seriously. What was she going to do now that Voldemort had been killed, and her life didn't revolve about hoping she made it out of the war alive. She blinked, wondering if she even wanted what Harry had just signed up for with Ginny, and a silvery blond haired boy came to the front of her vision. She dismissed it immediately, thinking of all the jobs she could have if she wanted them; but cringed, realising that her future would have to be sorted out again, now she could legitimately dream of having one. Whatever she wanted.

She blinked at the knowledge, her hand snaking up to her chest and clutching her heart. Guilt and joy slipped into it, beating a fresh cool wave of blood about her body as she closed her eyes, resting her head against the stone. The smell of cut grass had gone, taken with Draco as he fled; and her thoughts began to clear. She hadn't expected to be in such an intimate position with Draco Malfoy ever, but her desire for it to happen again was building already, pushed out by the guilt swelling in her stomach.

All she was doing was thinking about Draco Malfoy.

He made her furious. Filled her with longing. Set fire to her senses.

He was managing something she was finding almost impossible. Pinpointing his flaws and fixing them efficiently. He wasn't actively provoking fights, but he was still provoking. Tonks and Lupin's funeral came into mind, as did his lazy verbal sparring with Ron after he'd been beaten by him. He was still managing to change. He was kind. He'd touched her. More than once. Their brief encounters had never been like this; pressed up against him, so close she could smell his breath. So close she could feel every line of muscle on his stomach. So close she could almost kiss him if she wanted. She blushed, deeply imagining the idea. Soon finding herself unable too. The idea was too far-fetched, even with the first born steps of their new relationship –whatever it was; blossoming.

The guilt broke its dam, and she thought of all the books she should be reading, the time she should be spending with Mrs Weasley, and her sons, with Ginny, and Harry. She should be doing everything other than spend so much time with a man who had haunted her dreams. Stood and watched while she was tortured.

She sighed, realising she was bringing up useless arguments. Things that couldn't be applied to the new person he was attempting to display now. She dragged herself to her feet; heading towards the front gates of the school; planning to apparate away and spend the next few days with the Weasley's.

To grieve.

To research.

To do anything but think of Draco. 


	16. Burrow and Place

It was two days before Harry and Ron were due to begin their new step in their lives. Harry had been bristling with the anticipation; feeling lost and useless now his nemesis had passed by his own hand. Ron had just been pleased to have an excuse to leave the Burrow more, with Auror training his main excuse; his mother wasn't able to suffocate him with her grief. The trio had gone for a walk about the Burrows garden, reminiscing about old times, and lamenting that they'd be split for the first time in seven years. Hermione to Hogwarts, and the men to the Ministry.

"It's a year, a lone year." Hermione laughed as they aired their grievances with her decision for what seemed like the millionth time. She smiled kindly at her two first loves, brushing strands of hair out of her eyes as she dipped her toes in the pond, enjoying the cool freshness it offered in the sweltering heat of the summer.

"Yeah, but…we've never managed to solve a case without you; it won't be the same." Harry offered, shrugging non-committally, and she grinned at him feeling a rush of affection for the boy who had lost so much but still kept attempting to give.

"It wasn't all me, it was both of you two as well." She replied, sitting down as she gently kicked her feet in the water, the splashes a gentle background noise to their conversation.

"Yeah, but this time I'll be rich enough you may consider being with me," Ron laughed, as Hermione turned to look at him in shock. Her eyes wide and horrified that her friend would think such a thing of her.

"That is absolutely disgusting." She spat; as Ron laughed at her, his blue eyes sparkling with mirth.

"You can't deny it though, the lack of cash has to be the reason you're really turning me down." He continued, grinning wildly at her as her cheeks flushed, disappointment swelling up in her throat.

"You think I care about money?" She whispered, shame leaking into her tone. "You think so little of me?" She continued, catching his eye and staring him down; willing every inch of pain she felt at his assumption in to him.

He shrugged, unwilling to answer, and clambered to his feet. He grinned at them both, and left, ambling back to the house; kicking a gnome over the wall as he went. Hermione and Harry watched him go, Hermione's expression one of abject horror and shame, whilst Harry was filled with disappointment.

"I'm sorry Hermione," Harry apologised, patting her leg in an amicable manner; resting his head back on the grass and gazing at the clouds above. She sighed heavily, joining him, a great kick in the pond venting her frustration.

"It's not your fault, he isn't your responsibility." She replied, raising her arms above her head as she watched the clouds.

"No, he isn't, but he's not taking everything well."

The two remained quiet, enjoying a silence that was so calm between the two of them, understanding everything that lay between them. The clouds washed over them, the cool air from the water blowing over them each once in a while. She smiled absently, enjoying the sheer ability to do nothing; no stressing over the library that had been put back together, no hunting for horcruxes, no answering questions she didn't want too.

"I'm moving into Grimmauld Place," Harry broke the silence with, and Hermione turned her head to look at him.

"Now?"

"No, not… not for ages; Ginny is going to completely re-decorate the place, make it a home. We may have gutted it years ago, but we only made it liveable." He smiled, closing his eyes. Hermione laughed, remembering the dust that had followed them around for months afterwards, the grime that seemed to be everywhere, and so much to be thrown away.

"You're going to make it into a real home then?"

"Yeah, I'm going to start gutting the insides on the weekends once term begins; completely rebuild the inside." She nodded, her head disturbing the grass as her way of answer, and the quietness fell between them once more.

"Hang on; didn't we break the fidelius charm?" She asked him concerned, remembering when their ability to stay at the ancestral home of the Blacks had been broken.

"Shacklebolt has had the whole place completely warded up like the ministry, the charm has been replaced." He grunted a little shame faced.

"I suppose you're still important after all," Hermione commented as Harry grunted again.

"No…privacy Hermione, I want me and my family to have some privacy." He corrected her; and she turned her head to the sky once more, thinking about what he'd just said. "The floo only goes to the Burrow, Hogwarts, Shell Cottage and I'll be adding my future office into it too. That's it. Just three places until you either move in, or get your own place." He explained further as Hermione looked over at him once more.

"Move in?" she asked surprised, but warmed at the gesture.

"You'll always be welcome. You can have your own room or guest room. You'll always be family, so why lie. I want my family close." Harry shrugged, as the shadow of a cloud washed over the pair of them.

"A guest room will be fine, I don't want to disturb you and Ginny," she smiled as Harry barked a laugh.

"You will always be welcome, no matter what time of year, or how far in to the future. You will always be welcome." He repeated, as if making sure she understood the depth of his love for her.

"Best brother ever," she whispered as Harry chuckled, her hand slipping into his and squeezing it. With a shock she realised she'd been hoping for the touch of Draco, his soft skin and rough callouses a guilty pleasure, instead of Harry's rough worn grip that was masculine in a very different way. Harry squeezed her hand back and let go of it, as Ginny's voice lilted towards them.

"Harry, Hermione!" She called, laughing as she ran through the over grown grasses of the depths of her garden.

"Ginny," they both greeted in unison, matching smiles on their faces. They got to their feet, brushing themselves off losing the stray blades of grass and seeds that had attached themselves to their clothing as she reached them.

"Mum wants you Harry," she told him with an apologetic shrug, and he nodded, kissing Ginny in thanks and grinning at Hermione as he left, waving his hand in the air as he took off at a jog.

"I take it he told you then?" Ginny asked her, with a slight smile watching her boyfriend's retreating figure. Hermione tilted her head, confused; she knew about the engagement, and had acted surprised and thrilled at all the right moments. Blocking out the memory of Draco's death grip upon her, and the closeness of his lips.

"I only know about you redecorating the house and you being engaged…" she offered wondering if there was something she was missing.

"Well?" Ginny asked excitedly, almost bouncing up and down on the spot as she looked at her friend expectantly.

"Congratulations…?" Hermione offered with a shrug, clearly missing something. Ginny huffed, slumping, all excited bouncing coming to a stop as she looked back at Harry's previous path.

"Men." She sighed, "He was meant to ask you if you wanted to help me do the interior design for the house this year, because I'm going to be busy with quidditch – McGonagall made me captain by the way, busy with re-doing sixth year, and I know you're Head Girl, but I want us to have a real excuse to see each other. Even if nothing gets done." She grinned, and Hermione laughed.

"I accept." Hermione replied grinning back at her friend. "I've never done anything like interior design before, it'll be a fun challenge." She decided, as Ginny threw her arms about her suddenly, squeezing the life out of her. Hermione awkwardly patted her back, delighted with her reaction. Ginny loosened her arms, looking at Hermione sheepishly, and Hermione readjusted, returning her friends embrace warmly. "Oh and congratulations on captian!"

"Thanks! The first thing we get rid of is the elf-heads and the screaming portrait. Not dealing with that creepy shit ever again." She said in a business-like manner as she let go of her friend.

"Sounds like the first thing I was going to say." Hermione grinned, as Ginny returned it.

"We ought to go back, it's almost lunch, and I was meant to get you as well as Harry, but forgive me for wanting some girl time that isn't spent with Mum." She explained, as the two girls fell into a familiar step beside one another. Tracing the path back to the house at a gentle pace. "I'm sorry about Ron," Ginny apologised, and Hermione fought back rolling her eyes.

"No, not you too, he's not your responsibility." She sighed, crossing her arms and Ginny laughed.

"You're right, he isn't." she said, eerily copying her husband-to-be's words from earlier, "but as my brother I do feel responsible. I think he feels trapped here."

Hermione nodded, realising there could be some truth to her words. "Maybe him doing all the training will do him some good." She offered, as Ginny's mouth twisted.

"We can only hope." She sighed, watching as the house came into view. "I'm pleased you're back for the week Hermione, I think it would do us all some good." She commented quietly, and Hermione slipped her hand into Ginny's, offering her some quiet support as they walked back to the house in silence.

:: :: ::

He stood in their small apartment above the eighth year common room, slotting in shelving for their assignments beneath their desks, his expression grave. Hermione's things from her Gryffindor common room and dorm had arrived, at Hermione's request, and McGonagall's quiet relief that she could set about making all the house living spaces untouched for the new year.

Draco had peered at some of the items, astonished with just how many books had come up with the house-elves, and he considered buying her a trunk with many different compartments, just so that her room wouldn't be swamped by books and furniture and she could use her living space. He'd laughed, realising that she really was just as bookish as she made herself out to be. Her sentimental items had also come, placed carefully on top of the book piles; framed pictures of herself with Potter, Weasel-King, the female Weasley, all the Weasley's and Krum. Some more pictures showing a rag-tag group of people sitting in a musty looking living room; all smiling and waving at the camera. Hermione, Potter and Weasley weren't in it, nor were lots of the Weasley brood. His old defence teacher was the warewolf, and the auror. To his shock he spied Snape and McGonagall, standing either side of the current Minister for Magic, whilst McGonagall's hand rested on Dumbledore's shoulder. With a sharp pang of realisation he noted that this group must have been the Order of the Phoenix, the group that had managed to form such a successful defence against Voldemort; that the dark wizard had been sent into rages one too many times. He looked away only to start shivering as he spied a picture of a couple that bore resemblance to her, but didn't move. At all. Their completely still beings creeped him out more than he was willing to admit, and he thought of the muggle world, holding all its mysteries must be a dark place indeed if even their pictures didn't move. He screwed his mouth up slightly in thought, wondering if that was why Hermione had been able to endure all she had with such a strength he hadn't expected from her. He dismissed it almost immediately, tossing his hair out of his eyes with a casual flick of his head, a smirk across his features as he thought of the idea.

Her items had been put in her room, resting on her bed for her return in a couple of weeks. She'd sent him a short note, saying that she'd be staying elsewhere; with no explanation for a little time and the prospect of her going without a real good bye had hurt Draco. He'd crumped the note up in his hand, studying her swirled handwriting fondly before hiding all his hatred at the words she'd written by making a fist. The parchment had vanished, and Draco fought the emptiness that had begun to fill his time at Hogwarts without her there to…harass, fight with, spar with….

He sighed, slotting another cubbyhole into place; as Hermione's face filled his vision once more. Their awkward embrace over hearing Potter and Weasley's engagement had become nectar of the gods to him. Calming the dreams he had at night, with visions of her slightly parted, bee stung lips, and those warm brown eyes that were always so full of question. Her simple defence of him at his trial had been what had started him thinking of her all the time; now they were both at Hogwarts so much, he'd come to hate her, and admire her.

She'd shown herself to be just as arrogant, prejudiced and intelligent as he'd always suspected. Yet she was stupid, funny, and kind. She wasn't afraid of him the way she used to be, if she was ever afraid of him; and she was remarkably difficult to push about. She seemed determined to set him straight, and when he'd shouted at her in the library instead of telling her about his position of Head Boy, she'd taken it. She'd tried to fight back, but she'd taken it.

She'd even seemed to have considered what he was screaming at her.

He'd bristled at her accusations, which he was meant to be "better" somehow, be more than he was. It was if she wasn't aware as to whom she was speaking too. He was a Malfoy, a Malfoy that teetered on the edge of disgrace. A Malfoy that held the ancient name in his hands as its last scion and only hope. Of course he was going to change. He was going to make the Malfoy name a name that echoed through the ages for all the right reasons, not ones picked out for him by his ancestors and parental wishes. No, he'd make the Malfoy name great. He just had to survive this year. Then he could really focus on making his family name fine.

He sat back, pressing his body up against the leg of his desk, frowning.

Changing had been easier than he'd ever expected. Without the weight of expectation upon him, from people who would hurt him should he not act the way he was supposed to…being different was…easy. Without having to hate every person in sight he could just – exist. He could still manipulate, still irritate people, and still wanted too. That part of him he doubted would change, it was just who he was, but the irrational hatred was vanishing. Gone with the crumpled body of a Dark Wizard. The stress had taken with it all the things he'd stopped believing in a long time ago. He didn't have to feign dislike for Muggle-borns. It was true he'd not liked them before, when he was younger, and wanted to be the exact clone of his father. Then Diggory had been slaughtered, and Potter's reaction; protective of a corpse, screaming that Voldemort was back had all seemed too familiar to him.

The agony of watching someone lose someone. The desperate reaction. The blood. The blood on his arm.

The ministry were idiots for not realising Voldemort was back, and making his path to succession easier than it should have been. Then he'd realised how far his father's tendrils had really snaked into the ministry; understood that it was his families workings that allowed such an easy take over. The war was coming to involve him, and it was then he'd realised that he'd never, not even once wanted to be involved.

Being a Malfoy was glory enough to ride in the school halls, but to kill – to actually mar the family name further after having it rubbed into him he was great because of it…He couldn't agree with it. The Malfoy name should be great for different reasons, but time had disagreed; and he was wallowing in the mud with it. His father a mere shell in a cell, his mother sobbing, and desperately reaching out to her surviving sister.

His thoughts went over Hermione again, and he groaned, realising that he missed her, and he didn't want to miss her. She would be working with him as Head Girl, balancing out his Head Boy; making him seem either worse or better than he actually was unless he could hold his own. He grimaced, not wanting to throw the opportunity McGonagall had provided him so kindly, so…freely. She didn't trust him at the beginning of the summer after the war; but after his shouting fits, his trial…she'd come to tolerate him. Finally, she'd started to trust him. No; he would not shame that woman and ruin being Head Boy. He'd show that trusting in the Malfoy name wasn't a case of bad faith. His thoughts fell to his mother again, wondering what she'd think if he brought Hermione home on his arm as his girlfriend.

Hermione was a much better choice than Pansy, a girl who really did look a bit like a pug dog, and had the personality of a pig to match. She was spiteful, took too much pleasure in Malfoy's boasting. She was drawn to power and little else, and had lamented the fact her father had banned her from becoming a Death Eater until she was 'of age'. He'd hated that; despised that she at least had the choice. Yet she'd fawned over him, fawned over the wretched scar he had on his arm when his choice was taken away from him. She'd been a great distraction, but she'd always begged for more. Sex. Sex. Sex. The idea of it with her had sickened him; knowing she would be willing to slip up on her charm in order to get them a quick marriage contract.

Hermione on the other hand…she was smart. She didn't need to be handled with gloves and molly-coddled into doing things. She was stubborn, unafraid, and willing to fight back. She was manipulative even if she didn't realise it. Her personality was fun. She was caring and…kind.

Yes. He wanted to get to know her. He really wanted to get to know her.

He'd even found himself thanking Potter for speaking at his trial for her, even though she'd never asked.

Yes. He wanted Hermione back.


	17. Heal and Hurt

A week had passed at the Burrow, and Hermione and Harry had begun to gravitate together when the day was finished, a walk was taken in the evening, just the two of them; that the Weasley's allowed. Ginny would watch them leave, not a hint of jealousy on her features, but filled with love, and fly into George's room; her broom in hand. Ron would join his siblings, and a makeshift quidditch match would happen, the back drop to the chat's Hermione and Harry would have.

The pair of them strolled about the garden as George swooped at them from above; laughing as a pinch of Peruvian darkness powder was let loose, clouding the way for the two honorary Weasley's. He flew off, laughing as he went, but Hermione noted the hollowness of it, as if his laugh had been two people giggling from one throat, and now…now one was gone.

"At least George is laughing." Harry said dully from beside her, their stroll stopped dead in the darkness lest they trip over something.

"Better than him not." Hermione agreed, flapping her arms about in a hope to clear the powder faster. Eventually, greys began to shimmer through the once completely smothering darkness, and the two took tentative steps forward, eyes on the ground.

"Harry," Hermione began, stepping over a log she'd only just seen with a slight stumble, "Can I ask you something?"

"Well, yeah, you know that; but I guess only if I get to ask you something in return." He grinned; and Hermione laughed at the strange formality she'd started.

"What…what did Malfoy need to talk to you about when we were making the common room?" she asked him, for some reason nervous, as if she were encroaching on a secret between the two men. Harry's face clouded at once, the familiar swells of confusion forming behind his green eyes. His jaw set, and an expression of torment came on to his face once more.

"He…he thanked me for being his defence at his trial." Harry responded, still stunned at the fact it had happened.

"He thanked me too," Hermione said softly, looking at the Weasley's on their brooms, throwing a ball between them. Harry followed her gaze, and shifted his weight slightly on each foot, crossing his arms almost defensively.

"I wish I understood it," Harry said quietly, "Malfoy I mean, he doesn't seem to be…antagonistic."

"He isn't…I've run into him a lot at Hogwarts Harry, a lot. He speaks to me kindly each time," she said, casually ignoring the times they'd shouted at each other. "he's…actually friendly." She told his stunned face, as the torment filtered back. "Why do you look so tormented over Malfoy, you're giving me flashbacks to sixth year." She sighed, a slight chuckle dripping into her tone at her last words. Harry laughed quietly, his eyes fixed upon Ginny as she swooped below Ron, throwing a ball into the goal he was meant to be defending as if he wasn't there.

"I keep thinking…after the war, maybe I should speak to Malfoy again, see if we can clear the air between us. I don't think we'll ever be friends; but…I was right in sixth year, I was right. I can't just ignore that, but…" He sighed, rubbing his temples gently. "I can't just encourage a world where we all hate each other, not when there are so many eyes on me. We can't keep making the same mistakes. If he's civil towards you, maybe I can be civil towards him, and him; me…I just keep having this thought. What if he really was thick and believed everything his Daddy said. What If you were right and he never had a chance to be himself. What if I had shaken his hand that day of the sorting – first year…I'm just...there are so many 'what if's' with Malfoy. Maybe I want to test the waters, see if we can at least respect each other. I don't know…" Harry sighed heavily, his hand going through his perpetually messy hair as he breathed out.

"You might as well try it Harry, I think…I think you'll be surprised with the outcome." Hermione admitted, her own face a mask of sheer confusion when she thought of the Slytherin once tormentor. Harry nodded, turning to face her seriously.

"My turn now, I saw the priority board in the Auror office. Why are your parents on 'low'?" He asked her, his eyes narrowed, his tone serious and ready; the way it had been before one of his reckless escapades. Hermione raised her brows, a small smile at the corners of her mouth.

"Shacklebolt is a good man," She commented to herself, as Harry looked confused again, she sighed and hung her head. "Because I asked Shacklebolt to put them on low. We've just had a war Harry. I know that not all the Death Eaters were rounded up when you killed Voldemort, but it pays to keep them out the way right now. Let the aurors do their best rounding up everyone who may pose a threat, then get them. Not only that but…I don't want them to come home and not see me. I want to spend time with them. Be able to answer all their many millions of questions, explain to them everything in detail; talk to them. Not, 'Hey, Mum, Dad! Look, I had to modify your memory for a year so you wouldn't be murdered for knowing who I was; you're back now, but I'm off to school for nine months! Bye!'" She said mock cheerily, feigning a wave as Harry chuckled lowly. "I want to spend proper time with them after everything. After Hogwarts is finished, once we've started to put the world back together, when I can explain everything to them and not have to run off to school; or work, or…I dunno. Shacklebolt said he'd start the search at Christmas, bring them back Easter by latest, meaning they should be out of St Mungo's by the time exams are finished, which is perfect for me."

"St Mungo's?" Harry asked her, the concern evident.

"I did modify their memories…I mean…for a long time, they're going to need some help adjusting to the fact they have a daughter again…not to mention it's not like I had any practise with the spell before casting it…" she winced as Harry looked mortified, as if the whole idea Hermione's parents may never be the same again had occurred to him. A dreadful, mournful look draped over his features and Hermione's own looked darkened. "Don't you dare Harry Potter; I did what I had to, not for me, but for everyone else too." She warned him, and Harry grunted, still displeased with the sheer level of sacrifice she had given for him.

"If there is anything I can do for you, with your parents…I'll do it. Just let me know," Harry said loyally, and Hermione smiled weakly, thinking of how her parents would be able to settle back into the muggle world as easily as they were expected. With a hope, she wished that when their memories were fixed, they'd remembered being Monica and Wendell, so that they'd have legitimate stories to tell people when they returned.

"Thank you," she said instead, smiling at her best friend as the Weasley siblings seemed to have multiplied again, Bill now joining the game as Percy stood watching from the side-lines, his own expression one of sheer humiliation and discomfort.

"Does…does it feel like everything is still wrong to you?" Harry asked her watching the siblings chase one another.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean…does it feel to you like even though the war is over; we're still…apart from one another? Does; does that make sense?" He asked, his hand meeting his hair line again. Hermione twisted her mouth, her arms crossing across her body as she contemplated his question.

"I know I'm physically apart from everyone at Hogwarts; I can't be around Ron, or the Weasley's…it feels…like I'm intruding. Like…" She sighed, biting her lip slightly. "Like I'm…trying so hard to pretend everything is still the same; that Fred is here, and Tonk's and Lupin, and when I'm here it's so obvious everything isn't ok." She replied, as Harry nodded.

"I'm happy you came here Hermione," he told her, as Ron aimed his broom towards them, his intention of landing clear.

"Harry!" He called, nearing them, "You're turn; I need to talk to Hermione." He said his eyes grim and focused, and for the first time in her life, Hermione felt slightly nervous about Ron.

"Sure," Harry said, throwing Hermione a meaningful glance, taking Ron's broom and mounting it effortlessly as Ron looked at Hermione with such a piercing gaze she fought back a blush.

"Hermione," He began, stepping towards her as her breath hitched. "Can we walk? I need…I need to clear the air with you." He explained, stepping past her; his hand out in a gesture for her to join him, his expression hopeful. She nodded, falling into step beside him, her hands slipping into her pocket, fingers gripping her wands handle carefully.

"So…" She began, hoping that the conversation would be smooth and easy; not ending up with her having to hex him.

"I just wanted to explain to you…my behaviour." He said awkwardly, humiliation seeping into the corners of his eyes.

"Please do Ron, because this is so tiring, this…you're not the Ron I know." She sighed, sudden waves of exhaustion drenching her as she glanced at him, his messy red hair and cornflower blue eyes bright; and strangely painful.

"I know I've said to you before, how it's not fair, you're supposed to be my support line. I know Harry has Ginny and all but Hermione…you've not really been here. It's hard work. Mum…Mum needs one of us in her sight at all times. Do you know how difficult that is? To make sure you're around her at all times? So she doesn't lose it? She's…she's really struggling; and I can't cope. Fred is dead. Sure. We had a funeral…but…" he swallowed, tears beginning to well up in his eyes as the pair of them stopped walking. "I'm just so angry all the time Hermione. Why did it have to be this way? Why did Fred have to die? Why did Lupin? Why Tonks? Sirius? Moody?...Fuck, Lavender. Sure, she was my ex but…to see her… I don't…I can't stand this Hermione. Having to be something I just can't feel all the time here. Everything sets me off, you saw what I did to Malfoy – not that he didn't deserve it, but…that's not…not me. I'm not this angry all the time. I feel like bloody Lockhart, completely senseless." He sighed, and Hermione smiled at the first hint of the Ron she knew gleaming through the gaps. "It's just so lonely without you around, and Harry; all his work he's doing for the Ministry making sure things are declassified, identifying Death Eaters…I just…I can't stop grieving all the time. You can't show Mum that you're upset or she starts and…" He sighed a great heaving breath, as if everything he was saying was taking so much effort to get out he was almost wounded by it.

Hermione stepped forward towards him a little, placing her hand on his shoulder to steady him. He flicked an appreciative glance at her, resting his hands on his knees as he doubled over breathing heavily.

"I didn't mean what I said the other day by the way. The comment about me being rich. I dunno where it came from, but it was out of order. Do you get where I'm coming from that none of this is me?"

He straightened up, wiping the back of his hand across his ruddy cheek, looking at her calmly; the first hint of calm she'd sensed from him for days.

"I'm sorry Ron," she said quietly, "I was saying to Harry earlier about how I think I've just…escaped from you all at Hogwarts; I've used excuse after excuse, but the fact is I just can't face all the grief. I need to distract myself. It's why I'm here now though – I need to face it; we can't just run and hide from our emotions. I'm sorry I've not been there for you, I've been a bad friend."

"Like I've been a saint," Ron snorted, accepting her apology and they smiled lightly at one another. They settled into a familiar quiet, a sense of calm they'd not been able to achieve with one another for quite some time.

"I do…I do have feelings for you Hermione," Ron said to her as she looked away, "but I really want you to know that I understand why we can't be together. Your reasons…I hate them, but they're solid. There is too much between us that if…if we split, and let's face it; we fight a lot, it might happen…I never want to lose you in any form Hermione. I'd rather have you as a friend, even if I'm acting like a complete troll right now."

"Thank you Ron, I needed to hear that." She spoke quietly, turning to face him again, the gratitude written all over her face.

"I also want you to know I'm going to St Mungo's next week, every other day after auror training for two hours. Just…just so I start feeling like me again. Mum doesn't know, and I'd appreciate it if you could not let her in on it; it would ruin her to know that I'm struggling so much." He said gruffly as Hermione's jaw fell open in surprise.

"Ron I'm so proud of you," she choked out, suddenly feeling like she was on the verge of hysterical sobbing. He hugged her, hard. Burying his head into her neck and sobbing back. They stood there, entwined and crying for a few moments before Ron pulled away.

"Thanks Hermione." He said gruffly, releasing her, and stepping deliberately back, as if to enforce the idea that he was happy to give her space. She smiled, nodding her head and brushing her hair back behind her ears. "I'm going to go back, help Mum with dinner." He said, jabbing his thumb in the direction of the Burrow and she nodded once more.

"I'll talk to you later." She gasped out, between the last sobs and he dipped his head awkwardly, before leaving, long strides carrying him far away from the scene of the crime.

:: :: ::

"Hermione," Ginny's voice came out from the darkness, the whisper curious and hopeful.

"Hmmm?" Hermione replied, rolling on to her side in the bed facing where her friend would roughly be.

"Did you want to get in?" Ginny asked still in a whisper and holding her sheets up welcomingly. Hermione instantly threw hers off, and slipped into bed with the girl who was more like a sister, enjoying the closeness they shared. Ginny shifted over, a slight giggle on her lips. "This is harder now we're older!" she sniggered, as they fought for space and blanket, sniggering quietly. Hermione grinned, remembering the darker days when the news had often been bad, and they'd slipped into each other's beds for comfort, talking of anything that wasn't the tales of death.

"Oh shhh!" Hermione chided playfully, as Ginny passed her a pillow. "What's on your mind?" She asked, as the two girls settled down.

"Cast a muffliato, somehow I don't want to risk any of this being over heard," she told her friend, who sighed and rolled over, reaching for a wand and giving it a deft flick; settling into the position she was in a moment before hand. Ginny giggled, "Thanks," she smiled, her voice at normal volume.

"So?" Hermione asked for the second time that day; a large smile upon her face.

"I just can't stop thinking about the future you know, it's like…everything before was all about Voldemort, and now…"

"Now he's gone, what do you do?" She finished, remembering her brief fall out in the alcove in which Draco had dragged her.

"Exactly," Ginny said, "I mean, sure we're both going back to school; I'm one of the lucky ones to have eight years at Hogwarts due to my having to repeat sixth, but after that…I never even considered actually finishing school."

"I know what you mean; I'll be doing my N. E. W. Ts, then… something, at least I know that it could be anything you know. I'm not…I'm not upset about it, I'm still wondering what it'll be that I'll do, but I know not knowing right now isn't the end of the world. Besides, you know some of what you want; you're engaged to Harry; so perhaps you'll have children in the future."

"Hmmm, I guess you're right; I'd never really thought of being engaged as sorting out my future though. Besides, it's Harry and it just feels like that's what we should be doing anyway; it doesn't feel like a set plan, it's more like a completely natural extension of our lives. No pressure." Ginny explained, as Hermione looked at her friend in shock.

"I think it's a good thing I'm not with Ron, because I've never thought that we would feel like that about one another." She admitted, as Ginny nodded in agreement.

"If I didn't feel this way about Harry, about the idea of having his children; living in his home, I wouldn't have accepted his oh so romantic proposal." She said seriously, before sniggering at the end, Hermione giggling with her having been let in on Ginny's version of events. Yet, she remembered the fierce steely gaze of Malfoy with a sudden hitch in her throat.

"Ahhh Harry…at least he knows what he wants." Hermione said to cover her strange laugh and Ginny smiled kindly at her.

"Yep, but I don't think he's going to be expecting me to completely change Grimmauld Place the way I want it. Seriously Hermione, that place has to look completely different. Walls are coming down and out, and a new layout is happening. I can't quite explain to you how much I hate the current décor of that place." She said with a slight laugh as Hermione laughed loudly, biting her lip to stifle it.

"Oh I don't blame you, Harry said it himself, we may have made the place liveable, but it's not a home."

"I can't wait to have you helping me; I'm so pleased we have a real excuse to see one another in our common rooms other than normal socialising. I will still want to spend time with just you, you know."

"I'm looking forward to it Gin, I've never really thought about where I want to live after Hogwarts, and helping you sort out your home will make me feel better. I definitely get the feeling this year will change a lot for me somehow. Today is the first day since the end of the war where things really feel like they've started to come together."

"How so?" Ginny asked, narrowing her eyes curiously.

"Well Ron said he's getting help from St Mungo's – don't tell your mother!" She hissed as Ginny nodded at her, as if she already knew the secret. "Harry and Ron are now in Auror training, we know how Hogwarts needs to be fixed, Percy has been here for the first time in a month according to George, and…oh this will sound so stupid, but…people are changing." She sighed.

"Malfoy," Ginny said immediately, almost knowing.

"What?" Hermione spluttered.

"Think about it; if anyone is the poster boy for post war right now, it's Malfoy. He was cleared of all charges in his trial; McGonagall actually sung his praises to me, McGonagall. He's actually helping out around Hogwarts and not pissing about tearing it down. He spoke to me like I was a _person_ Hermione, shit, even Harry is thinking of clearing the air between them; and we've only seen him a couple of times since the war." Ginny explained, and Hermione bit her lip, closing her eyes.

"He does seem different; he stopped me from taking one hell of a tumble at the remembrance service, before Ron so elegantly stepped in. I've run into him a lot at Hogwarts while I've been there; McGonagall has asked us both for help and…hasn't insulted me once."

"Why do I get the feeling there is something you're not telling me?" Ginny asked shrewdly; her eyes narrowing with suspicion and a small curl appearing at the corner of her mouth. Hermione sighed again; fighting with her emotions, struggling to keep them in check.

"Can…can you keep the biggest secret of your life right now Ginny?" She asked her friend seriously, knowing that Ginny would never betray her trust. Ginny's brows raised, and she nodded, the curiosity completely obvious over her face.

"I think…I think I've developed a serious crush on Malfoy." She said waiting for her friend to laugh in her face. The laughter never came, but Ginny blinked slowly, carefully, her expression one of deep thought.

"Remember that conversation we had last time Ron was a prat here; screaming about how you should be his?" She asked her, her brown eyes serious.

"Yeah," Hermione replied, curious as to what Ginny was getting at.

"I stand by what I said then. If…if you and Malfoy get together, I'll still stand by you and support you; I'll always be your friend." She said and Hermione's arms snaked about her body, pulling her close into a sisterly embrace that Ginny willingly returned. "You're not just a friend Hermione; you're a sister to me. You have always treated me kindly, and you're my first real female friend. I'm not going to throw all your loyalty, your kindness and genuine friendship away just because of a boy." She giggled slightly; clearly embarrassed by all the emotion she was showing.

"Thank you, Ginny, thank you; you know I'm exactly the same. You're my sister."

The pair released one another, as Ginny opened her mouth to speak again.

"Have you told anyone else about how you feel about Malfoy?"

"No, I didn't even think I had a crush until I said it aloud, and oh my Ginny, it's true. I definitely have a crush on Malfoy."

"If this were three years ago, I'd be slapping the silly out of you, but…it's now, and I can't help but think Malfoy really is a better person; and a much better match for you than I ever would have previously considered." Ginny said thoughtfully, as Hermione looked at her friend with surprise.

"It's one of those ridiculous crushes that I know won't go anywhere Gin," She told her friend seriously. Ginny chuckled quietly at that, a light smirk gracing her lips.

"I'm not so sure about that one Hermione." She told her surely, "I saw how he looked at you in the room of requirement; something is going on with that boy when he thinks of you." She smirked.

"I don't know…" Hermione sighed.

"Do you wish he fancied you too?" Ginny asked.

"Yes."


	18. Journey and Confide

It was a task Hermione most certainly did not consider necessary, but given the harried expression her Headmistress wore so constantly all the time, and the fact it seemed like a nice idea to go on a walk of some sorts; Hermione had agreed to "explore" the castle. The request had surprised her, as if she hadn't known of the marauders map at all.

She traipsed out of McGonagall's office, looking distinctly like there were fewer owls and unravelled scrolls of parchment with her head in a bit of a daze. The whole idea of where to begin was just completely impossible to pin point, and the only solution she could think of was to start bottom up; so she would only have to go down a floor when she wanted to go to bed. She stood stock still as the statue behind her closed, wondering if she should attempt her own version of the marauders map as she went; dismissing the idea as soon as it came. It was all well and good doing magic like that over a few months, but in a day when she was meant to be doing something else…she sighed, turning to head towards the dungeons.

"Busy?" he asked, carefully and ever so amused at nothing in particular, his drawl becoming warming and familiar.

"I was about to be; you can join if you want. The company would be nice." She said to him, as he opened his mouth, a brief expression of disappointment on his face.

"It's a good thing I'm not busy Hermione, or I'd have to turn you down. What are you doing?"

"McGonagall has said I should 'explore the castle, to make sure we've not missed anything; and that there are no more hidden surprises like the chamber of secrets.'" She quoted as Draco's face twisted into disbelief.

"That's an odd task, where were you starting?" He asked her, coming to stand beside her, and Hermione's breath began to catch in her throat.

"I was thinking the dungeons, and work my way up."

"Makes sense, come on then." He said, striding ahead of her in the direction of the dungeons. She smiled to herself, doing a half kind of skip in an attempt to catch up with him, falling into step beside him. "So tell me about this chamber of secrets thing then. Sounds like the chamber is real," he commented as Hermione gaped at him.

"It…it is…" she said to him starting to feel unsure of what she should reveal of her time at Hogwarts to him, only to see him sneer in disbelief.

"Bullshit."

"No…Draco, that's…that's how we helped kill Voldemort; we needed something from there." She explained, trying to censor herself, and decide just how much was a good idea to give away to a man who; had been in decidedly murky waters throughout the war. She felt the all too familiar burn of shame as she remembered she had no right in judging what she could and couldn't say to a man whose choice had been removed, but decided to stick to the horcruxes dying with Harry's final speech. Draco continued to walk beside her, not looking at her but his brows furrowed in confusion, a scheming gleam to his winter eyes told another story.

"Show me," he said.

"I'm not sure I can…you sort of need to be a parselmouth." She replied, and Draco leant back on his heels in victory, a triumphant expression on his face his walking taking on an effortless edge that Hermione had never noticed before.

"Oh whatever, I can show you where it's located at least, even if we can't get in." Hermione sighed, as Draco grinned at her, the air around them becoming chillier as they neared the dungeons. The lights began to dim; the stone walls seeming darker somehow.

"So what are we doing exactly?" Draco asked her, as their footsteps dragged them ever closer to the lowest point of their school.

"I guess just open every door, check all the rooms are clean and stocked; if not, mark it with our wands or something along those lines. I don't think we'll find anymore rooms here." Hermione said as they turned a corner into the potions corridors. Draco began to open doors with a flick of his wand, peering inside as Hermione began to copy, feeling there was little sense in actually physically hopping from door to door, but seeing where they had been would be a help.

"You never know; could be we are the discoverers of a room filled with nothing but feathers or something as equally useless." Draco said in his droll tones, tucking his hands into his suit pockets as he strolled along beside her.

"I'll have you know you can always find a use for feathers." Hermione retorted, an amused smile playing about her lips.

"If it's for stuffing bedding with, let the Slytherin dorms be the first in line for new bedding. We are under the lake for goodness sakes, and there is poor bedding." He bemoaned, as Hermione looked at him curiously.

"Slytherin's have poor bedding?" She asked him bemused, thinking of her own warm Gryffindor bed in the tower.

"Well…not really, it just feels like it sometimes, the dungeons aren't exactly the warmest of places." He smiled at her, as the temperature seemed to drop again. "Look, I'll show you the common room." He said, suddenly taking hold of her arm and pulling her gently in another direction.

"You'll show me the Slytherin common room?" Hermione repeated, slightly shocked.

"Yeah, why not." He shrugged, as they took off down another corridor, Draco's grip on her released, and the disappointment within her swelling.

"It's had to be redecorated; Death Eaters decided to bring all their stuff here, and I wasn't having any of it stay." He commented casually, and Hermione got the distinct feeling he was keeping something behind.

"Makes sense," she said, as he guided her to a blank patch of wall. She looked at him dumbly, wondering why he was facing it so intently, when he muttered a password, and the wall shifted to form an entrance. "Oh!" She gasped, as Draco gestured for her to go on ahead; and she did so, taking in the blacks and greens; the dull light. The ornately carved fireplace, that looked as if the fire in its hearth was permanent. The skulls that decorated the walls, the tables, and the mantel piece. The tapestries and the Slytherin crest. She shivered slightly, missing the welcoming warmth of the reds and gold's of the house she belonged too; the cold light of the Slytherin's chambers seemed to miss any hint of welcoming; instead seeming to prefer grandness, and an almost intimidating appearance.

"This explains a lot." She said, looking about at the leather seats, "especially explaining your taste in decorating the new common room and our rooms." She smiled, as Draco smirked.

"Well, taste is important." He retorted, as Hermione looked at him with an amused smirk of her own.

"It's a shame it's been redecorated already, I'd have loved to see it before, and I almost saw it in second year." She slapped her hand to her mouth in horror; as if to slam the words back into her head and never say them. Draco looked at her in disbelief again, stepping closer to her, a look of mirth crossing his features.

"Oh come on Hermione, I think we've been at story time for the past couple of hours, you can tell me; how on earth would you have got in here in second year? What with being the insufferable little twit you were back then, not to mention you were ever so…recognisably Gryffindor." He smirked, curious and amused.

"Harry and Ron managed it, and you never noticed actually." She began to giggle, "Even had quite the conversation with them too."

"I did not."

"You most certainly did, although, what you told us wasn't as useful as we'd hoped."

"What are you on about?" He asked her, clearly confused and she spluttered with laughter.

"Oh gosh, you remember the whole 'Slytherin Heir' thing? Harry, Ron and I, we sort of wanted to crack the case; seemed like a good idea at the time, especially with Harry actually hearing the basilisk in the walls – we didn't know it at the time of course, him being a parslemouth, but we got involved." She began, seeing Draco's confused; slightly alarmed expression she sighed, "Anyway, the point is to three twelve year olds, who would have seemed like the most likely candidate for the 'Heir of Slytherin'?" She asked him, trying to hold back her laughter as he thought desperately. He shrugged, looking to her with a mask of complete perplexion.

"I dunno…Snape?" He replied, and Hermione laughed loudly.

"No! You! You who bragged about being pure-blooded, and perfect, and is such a typical Slytherin that the sorting hat barely grazed your perfectly slicked back haired head!" She gasped, almost doubled up with laughter as Draco looked as if he'd slapped in the face, "there was no way you were going to speak to us and admit the truth, so I made polyjuice potion in moaning Myrtle's toilet, gave some to Harry and Ron who became-"

"Crabbe and Goyle." Draco finished, looking at Hermione with bemusement. "I thought they were off that day; "especially considering one of them had Potter's glasses." He continued as Hermione laughed louder. "But polyjuice potion? You brewed it? At twelve? I smell bullshit again Hermione."

"We can ask Myrtle you know."

"I think we will. Although…if Potter and Weasley were here, surely you would have planned to come along too?" He asked her shrewdly, his eyes narrowing in suspicion. Hermione blushed immediately, her eyes widening.

"Well, yes, I did plan to come along."

"As who?"

"Millicent Bulstrode…" she admitted, as Draco spluttered.

"Millicent Bulstrode?" He gasped, on the verge of hysteria, "You thought I wouldn't find it suspicious if Millicent Bulstrode just strolled over with Crabbe and Goyle and asked me about the whole chamber of secrets thing? No woman allowed Goyle near them! Even Millicent!"

"We were twelve! She was a Slytherin! It was flawless in our minds!" She protested, as Draco began to laugh out right.

"So why wasn't I visited by old Millicent?" He asked her, grinning as he chuckled. Hermione flushed such a dark red that Draco's eyes began to glitter with mirth, his smile widening.

"Turns out…turns out Millicent had a cat." She said quietly as Draco unleashed such a roar of laughter Hermione cringed with embarrassment. His laughter seemed to echo about the chamber, genuine, happy and light it mingled with Hermione's embarrassment until she found herself laughing along with him.

"Right, that's it, we're leaving, I need to get some kind of concrete proof that all this happened; because you turning into a cat is better than anything I could have ever dreamed of." He gasped, grabbing her forearm again and tugging her towards the exit. She blushed, wishing she hadn't tied her hair up into a top knot that day so it would fall over her face, hiding the flame to her cheeks. His hand slipped down her sleeve, coming to catch on her wrist; and slowly, tentatively his fingers gently traced down her palm. Setting it aflame as he went. His fingers snapped slightly, as if her were to take hold of her hand, entwining their fingers, but he let it fall and Hermione tried not to gasp with the sheer disappointment that swallowed her up. They fell into step beside one another again, Draco's chuckles breaking the amicable silence that had formed between them as they opened doors and peered in on the way back up the floors of the castle.

"We can go to Moaning Myrtle for proof I brewed the potion at twelve," Hermione said suddenly, as if willing her pride to prove she was capable of making such a thing at such a young age.

"To Myrtle?" Draco repeated as they began to walk towards the warmer airs of the floors above, still fresh and sweet as McGonagall insisted on having the windows and doors open to allow for an air flow; as if she believed she could let the wind blow away all the death that had befallen the hallowed halls.

"Yep, she was a witness of sorts," Hermione cringed, realising that the ghost would most likely be more than happy to tell the tale of her short lived experiences as a cat.

"Then we're going there next." Draco affirmed, as they entered the entrance hall; the great doors held open by magic, and the faint rustling of a breeze at the corners of tapestries, and tussling stray strands of her hair about her face.

"Hagrid!" Hermione called, spying the friendly half giant stroll up to the Head's office with a look of sheer bafflement and concern. "Everything alright?" she asked him as Draco slowed beside her, radiating nerves for a reason Hermione couldn't quite place.

"Yeh, just gotta go see McGonagall; 'bout the unicorn that's been 'bout the forest, it's not lookin' good fer it, that's for sure." Hagrid said to her, and Hermione noticed the slight silvery smudge upon a rag he was holding.

"Oh, oh dear." Hermione found herself saying, completely at a loss for words.

"Yeh, well, bes' be goin'." Hagrid said to them both, raising his hand in a slight wave and leaving towards McGonagall's office at double the pace. Hermione sighed; recognising Hagrid had no wish to be rude, but the unicorn was clearly troubling him. She watched him continue up the stairs as Draco caught up to her; chewing her lip.

"Sounds curious." He deadpanned, his hands still in his suit pockets, and she nodded, distracted from the task that they'd been set upon completely.

"Yes, right well, let's continue on to Myrtles then." She said briskly as she could, pretending the idea of something as sweet and pure as a unicorn being so injured hadn't affected her in the slightest. Draco threw her a disbelieving glance, before following her up the steps, to the first floor girls toilets that were abandoned, and the home of a resident school ghost.

Myrtle was playing, splashing about in the toilets, if the sound of water being flicked from behind the door was anything to go by. The squeals of laughter following a splash making Draco's lips curl into the smirk Hermione was so used too. She pressed her hands on the door, giving Draco a sly grin as she nudged it open. The sounds of splashing almost immediately stopping as the creaking of the door happened. The light of the room seemed to be brighter, despite most of the light coming from the reflections off the water that seemed to be a permanent fixture to the floor. It was if Myrtle enjoyed blocking the drains so she could have a lake within the school, simply to play with, or to lure people in. Hermione and Draco stepped in to the room, their reflections wary in the mirrors as a shrill giggle erupted from a toilet.

"You're back." Moaning Myrtle giggled, swooping up from her toilet and shimmering about Draco, a coy expression on her ghostly visage.

"Yes," He said, almost uncomfortably as Hermione's brows raised in sheer amusement.

"I knew you'd come back, the sensitive ones always do." Myrtle said to him as she spun about in the air, sheer knowing delight across her features.

"We've got a couple of questions for you Myrtle," Draco started, stepping forward and relaxing against one of the sinks that seemed to be a familiar position for him; as Myrtle splashed out of a toilet, and came to hover in front of him. "Did she," he jutted his head in the direction of Hermione, "brew a potion in here about five years ago?"

"Oh yes," Myrtle confirmed, taking a look at Hermione with a scandalously wicked grin, "first one to do that." She continued as Draco looked shocked.

"Was it polyjuice potion?" Draco asked her further, his eyes upon Hermione and staying there as she looked at him smugly, crossing her arms in victory across her chest.

"It's what the book said it was; I don't know though, never brewed it myself. But…she, and Harry; and the other boy all turned into other people when they took it. Only…_she_ didn't." Myrtle began to cackle, finding the memory almost hysterical as Hermione began to close her eyes and sigh. The price of her pride predictably paid. Draco's expression became one of mirth again, his eyes widening as the realisation sunk in.

"You really did become a cat!" He exclaimed the howling laughter back once more and Myrtles' own delighted squeals joining him.

"I've never heard you laugh before." Myrtle cooed, swooping down and rubbing her ghostly shoulder up against Draco who began to look distinctly awkward again. "I like it." Myrtle giggled, throwing a possessive look at Hermione.

"What about the chamber of secrets Myrtle?" Draco continued, attempting to ignore the ghostly fourteen year old rubbing herself up against him as Hermione managed to get in a couple of laughs.

"Oh yes, Harry managed to open it. Then that red headed boy." Myrtle confirmed again, her eyes a little dreamy as she mentioned Harry for the second time, and she pointed to a sink beside Draco, its tap a small snake.

"You have to say 'open' in parselmouth for it to open." Hermione told Draco as he moved to study it, his features twisting into confusion and jealousy.

"Potter is the heir of Slytherin?" He asked in disbelief as Hermione laughed behind him.

"No; Merlin no. Voldemort was."

"So how did Voldemort manage to open the chamber if he wasn't in the school?" Draco asked her disbelievingly again, and Hermione looked increasingly awkward and pained.

"Voldemort had a way with dark magic. A real way with it. He possessed people Draco." She told him quietly, as Myrtle hung above them, her face hungry with the gossip. Draco swallowed, looking back at the sink carefully, and spying lines that didn't fit the stone work of the wall. As if the sink would just fall away to reveal an entrance.

"So if Potter managed to open it because he's a parselmouth, how did Weasel-King do it?" Draco asked her again, staring intently at the small snake.

"He copied the sound Harry had made and hoped for the best; I think the desperation helped as well. Took him several times actually." She replied, walking about the toilet slowly, almost reminiscing. Draco straightened up and stared at Hermione curiously, the jealous tinge coming back into his eyes as he looked at her.

"You weren't always such a good girl were you?" He asked as Hermione laughed loudly.

"I don't know why people have this idea of me," she exclaimed, "I've been just as involved in breaking the rules as Harry and Ron, almost from day one of the first year here; admittedly, it was Halloween it all began, but that isn't the point. I broke rule after rule, laws too, I'm not a goody two shoes everyone seems to think I am." She sighed, as Draco smirked.

"Apparently not." His tone mildly impressed.

"We done?" Hermione asked casually, gesturing to the door as Myrtle squealed and threw herself about the ceiling, Draco nodded, quickly ducking towards the door as if he hoped if he were fast enough, Myrtle wouldn't notice the lack of his presence.

"Do come back!" Myrtle called as Hermione dragged the door shut; and the pair looked at each other, sighing with relief and quickly scurrying away from the door sharing a quiet splutter of laughter as they went. Draco pulled her about a corner, grinning at her.

"She wouldn't think to look here; she only looks up and down when she's desperate; not away." He explained and Hermione looked at him with a curious expression.

"Chase after you often, does she? You sensitive boy." She teased as Draco's expression fell and she blushed, feeling awful.

"Yup." He said, as if she'd said nothing wrong, and made to continue on their journey.

"I'll show you the Gryffindor common room." Hermione decided, as the two headed for the next floor up, an abashed quiet between them.

"You sure?" He asked, genuinely surprised.

"Well it's only fair." Hermione smiled.

The two of them ambled up the stairs, casually peering into classrooms as they went; checking what they felt like, the task McGonagall had set Hermione only half way carried out, and Hermione smiled inwardly as she realised McGonagall had not set a deadline. They reached the third floor, and a flood of nostalgia returned to her once more; a small giggle escaped her lips, and Draco snapped his head around to look at her.

"What's so funny?"

"I wonder…" she spoke aloud, barely hearing him; and set off in the direction of a corridor that had been locked their first year. The doors loomed over her, closed, but unlocked.

"Why are we here?" Draco asked her, catching up to her finally and staring at the doors in confusion.

"You remember these were locked in first year?" She asked him, looking up over her shoulder at him, a coy smile on her face.

"Yeah, and?"

"Ever wonder what was behind it?"

"I think every student in the school did; what's your point?" He said, as she continued to look at him with a grin on her face; the coy smile vanishing as mirth began to replace it. A sunrise happened over Draco and he looked at her astonished.

"Oh don't tell me you broke in here." He said, dumbfounded as Hermione laughed.

"Yep, Harry, Ron and I. We did it; it's why we won the house cup. Something had been sent here to be protected, and Harry assumed someone was going to steal it. He was right, and being Harry, decided to capture the culprit all by himself. Ron and I went with him." She explained as Draco looked pained.

"Slytherin never bloody stood a chance with you being in Gryffindor." He groaned, and Hermione laughed gently. "So what was behind the door then?" He asked, as Hermione walked away from it, spying classrooms behind the once locked doors.

"Each of the teachers had set a trap that someone would have to get through in order to break in. There was a chess set, where we were the pieces. We had to play a game of chess to get through the room. A huge Devil's Snare plant, then a room filled with enchanted flying keys; Hagrid's dog Fluffy-"

"A dog?"

"Well, it had three heads and could barely fit in the room, but yeah, I'd say it was a dog." Hermione shrugged as Draco listened in bewilderment, their trip now taking them to the fourth floor. "I'd say the most dangerous of all though was Snape's potions." She deliberated, now completely lost in thoughts as if she were speaking to either Harry or Ron.

"Snape's potions?"

"Yeah, he had a riddle, and a load of different sized bottles with potions in. Two were poison, and another would let you through the door with fire in front of it. That's all I can remember really, but safe to say; if we'd had the poison…" she shivered, and Draco looked at her in astonishment.

"You were willing to drink a possible poison for the good of the school?" He asked her dumbfounded, blinking in awe.

"Well, no not really, more when you really think someone is terrible, don't you do everything in your power to stop them?" She replied, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"I suppose if you have the choice," Draco responded sourly, his eyes darkening for a moment, and Hermione flushed with shame, forgetting that the world wasn't as black and white as it were so often depicted in books. A quiet descended upon the pair of them welcome and familiar, and almost comforting between them as they walked up the floors of the school, Draco following as they rose higher within the school.

"You Gryffindor's have a climb;" Draco said dryly as they reached the seventh floor. Hermione smiled at him, turning a corner and spying the portrait of the fat lady.

"Yeah, but we're here." She grinned, handing over the password to the woman who began throwing suspicious glances at the boy she knew to be a Slytherin. She swung open, and Draco looked mildly impressed, before walking into the common room.

"So this is the Gryffindor's lair." Draco drawled, looking about the warmly decorated room curiously, spinning on his heels as he admired the tower. Spying the two sets of stairs on either side, he raised a brow curiously.

"Which side is the girls?" he asked Hermione, a slight cheeky edge to his voice.

"That side," She replied pointing, the corners of her mouth quirking up in amusement as she tried to guess as to what he was about to do. With lithe, elegant strides, he headed towards the girls dormitories; only to be rebuffed as the staircase instantly became a slide. He slipped, tumbling downwards as Hermione laughed.

"Same as Slytherin." He determined, rolling on to his back, a grin on his face.

"Stops the parties from getting too wild." Hermione commented cheekily as Draco got to his feet.

"You had parties?" He asked her in surprise.

"Well of course, lots of quidditch wins, and well…Gryffindor's like a party. Fred and George also had something to do with it being so frequent; they were quite the fan of a good party." She commented, looking about and smiling; remembering all the celebrations she'd shared with her house. "Surely Slytherin partied?" She asked him, her brows furrowing a little.

"No, not really; nothing to really celebrate." He commented, a small look of envy on his face.

"We will need to have one in the eighth year dorm then, or sneak you into Gryffindor somehow, I'm quite good with polyjuice, you can be a Weasley or something, and no one will ask questions then." She laughed as Draco began to look horrified.

"I think I prefer eighth year party, invite people into our common room." He decided firmly, as a glimmer of amusement spread over his features. "Listen to us, the Heads of Hogwarts already planning raucous parties. What terrible examples we set." He said slyly as Hermione laughed again, trying to remember the last time she'd felt so light and easy around someone.

"I'm sure Hogwarts will survive." She smiled as Draco took a step towards her, his face suddenly serious. "We should be getting back to McGonagall, to tell her about us finding nothing."

"We should," he agreed. His expression thoughtful. "Fuck it, Hermione, how would you feel about dinner in our sitting room this evening instead of the hall? I never thought I'd say this, but I enjoy talking to you, and I'd like to continue to hear about how you Potter and Weasel managed to make me look like a damned fool all these years."

Hermione gasped, as Draco's eyes caught hers, searching and hopeful. She blushed, a smile crossing her features slowly.

"Yes, I think I can deal with that." She agreed as Draco looked delighted.


	19. Discover and Intrigues

**AN: Sorry about another Author's Note, I know they can be annoying. Just to say that I will be going through the previous chapters and fixing the horrific amount of issues with grammar, story line holes…general; issues that get published when you don't have a beta and you have managed to put up a chapter almost every day. **

**I also want to say that I am now working on a new Dramione story in full; and so updates of Restoration may slow. (They will in about a week anyway, but before that.) I'd like to thank you very much for reviewing and following once more; especially considering the very shoddy quality of this literature!**

Draco had almost run to their rooms after Hermione had accepted his offer; after telling her to go to McGonagall with their findings, and then to return. She'd approached the statue of the witch with her phoenix nervously, unsure why she was feeling so shaky, she'd just spent an afternoon with him walking about the school and being alarmingly candid with him.

"Computer," she said to the witch, stifling her thoughts now that the time for her evening with Draco was about to start, completely unavoidable. Not that she wanted to avoid it. She slipped into the common room, darting through the wall with her feet picking up the pace unintentionally, her wand was out and ready for the door. She reached the expectant door handle, and took a deep breath; tapping it gently, completely unsure what she was expecting.

"I'm not sure what we're having for dinner," Draco admitted, the moment the door swung open and Hermione made herself visible, shrugging slightly, "I thought we'd call the house-elves; see if they can send up something from the table below."

"I sort of feel like a burger," Hermione admitted, admiring the lighting Draco had managed to whip up in the room; a pair of candles now shone on the mantel piece, and lamps with various coloured glows had been set up upon their desks, giving the entire room a calming glow.

"And a burger is…?" Draco said, waving his hand and shaking his head in confusion, indicating Hermione should elaborate more.

"You're kidding." She replied staring at him as Draco looked taken back.

"No…"

"A burger, you know, like a sandwich only hot and amazing. Filled with meat, salad, cheese and sauces…"

Draco shook his head again, giving a slight shrug as Hermione looked at him incredulously.

"But…it's one of the best foods out there. It's…they're…I can't believe this." She gabbled stunned as Draco gave an awkward chuckle, not expecting her reaction in the slightest.

"Nope, sorry, never had one. Don't even know what they are." He admitted; and Hermione turned to face him; a look of a decision made on her face, and an air of authority began to settle over her shoulders.

"I can't believe you've never had a burger before. How is that possible. I don't understand it." Hermione proclaimed, staring at the blond haired man with indignation; "you're missing out on one of the best foods ever. We're having a burger." She declared as Draco began to open and close his mouth in awkward grimaces as Hermione called for Kreacher, inwardly pleased the elf responded to her as much as Harry. She gave Kreacher her request as Draco relaxed onto the sofa, admiring Hermione's ability to list exactly what she needed almost immediately.

"Why are these…burger things so great?" He asked her as Kreacher popped away; only for the coffee table to start having food items appear in front of them. Several plates clattered onto the surface, and a full bowl of mixed leaves, with sliced tomatoes peeking out appeared next as Hermione grinned, ignoring Draco's question and organising the table immediately, stopping the noise as various items appeared. A plate of fries appeared, thin and crispy; as if they had been made by Belgians and not house-elves, with a whole rack of sauces that made Draco stare.

"Burgers look unbelievably complicated." He deadpanned, as Hermione threw him an amused glance.

"Best bit hasn't even arrived yet," she said, as a bowl of sliced buns appeared, with a clatter as a platter of cooked meat slammed down. Hermione laughed, seeing all the food in front of her, and picked up a napkin.

"It has now!" She laughed, as Draco looked set to copy her immediately. "Ok, here is your introduction to a muggle food I cannot believe you have never had before. We are building our own burger. First, take a bottom half of a bun, and a sauce you want." She instructed, grabbing the bottle of barbeque sauce out the rack and a slice of shaped bread. She squirted the sauce in a circle on to the bun, swirling it a little with a grin. Draco copied curiously, picking up a bottle of tomato sauce, a lone brow raising in sheer curiosity. "Now you want some salad," Hermione continued, picking up a few leaves and a tomato slice. "Then, the very best bit; some meat." She grinned.

Hermione picked up a knife and fork as Draco looked relieved, as If this was a part he finally recognised, only his expression fell when Hermione simply maneuvered a beef patty on top of her salad, and then placed a couple of bits of bacon on top of it. She grinned at him, excitement glittering in her brown eyes as he copied her.

"Cheese!" She announced, grabbing the block and slicing off a wafer; placing it carefully on top of the bacon. "If you're anything like me, you'll want more sauce," She admitted, blushing slightly, and adding yet another dollop of barbeque sauce on to the slowly melting cheese. "Then the top part of the bun." She said, placing the bread onto the now finished burger and pressing it down lightly. "Now we eat," she announced, picking it up with her hands and taking a surprisingly greedy bite with enthusiasm. Draco looked mildly horrified, before finishing off his own attempt at the burger and copying Hermione's actions surprisingly delicately. As the food reached his mouth, his expression melted, a glitter of sheer joy sparkling in his winter eyes. He chewed slowly, savouring each bite as Hermione dabbed at the corners of her mouth with a napkin, her own eyes regarding him with unrestrained amusement. He swallowed, and placed the burger down, reaching for a napkin.

"So that's why these burger things are so great." He sighed, wiping a little sauce off one of his long willowy fingers.

"I just can't believe you've never had one before. They've been on the table at dinner a few times before; how have you never tried one?" She asked him, tilting her head to the side as she took another; smaller and more ladylike bite.

"I didn't know what you were supposed to do with them! They're not very common in my world," he admitted a hint of regret spiking his eyes as he raised the burger to his lips again. "My mother also prefers gourmet cooking, and that doesn't really include burgers." He continued, taking another bite as Hermione finished hers, and nodded along with him. She poured herself a drink from the jug that had arrived with the food, and threw him a curious look.

"Sounds like the pure-blood society is pretty different." She said dully, remembering the times she'd seen Hannah Abbott dig into a burger at dinner.

"I wouldn't say that; just different expectations." He shrugged, seemingly more interested in what he considered to be a muggle delicacy than he was with talking at the moment. Hermione smiled, picking up the hint, and bit into her burger once more. The pair continued to eat slowly, savouring the taste as they carefully regarded one another. The easiness of the conversation they managed to share had crept upon them again unnoticed, like a cat playing tag in the darkness. The revelation had startled them both, but a comfort had begun to overwhelm Draco, and relief for Hermione. The idea of admitting that talking wasn't difficult for them both began to settle upon each of their shoulders, as; burger finished, Hermione began to pick at the fries.

"Why are you always in suits?" She found herself asking, realising that she'd not seen Draco out of a suit since their sixth year, when he seemed to have adopted them permanently.

"It's an image thing, you look much smarter and ready for the day; people take you far more seriously when they see you in one." He commented, smoothing down the fabric of his trousers self-consciously.

"But the effect wares off when you're in them all the time." Hermione smiled, dipping the end of a fry in to some sauce she'd put on the plate.

"So you're not impressed by this?" He asked her almost suggestively, a sly grin appearing at the corners of his mouth as she laughed.

"No!" She giggled, shaking her head, "I've seen it too much; it's boring." She declared, picking up her drink. Draco relaxed against the back of the sofa a seemingly thoughtful expression over his face; his eyes taking him about the room as he mulled over Hermione's words.

"I'll think about it," he said, as Hermione creased her forehead with wonder, not quite understanding what he meant to change.

"I thought it was an attention thing," Hermione admitted, "I mean, Merlin, you loved attention. You were so over dramatic; especially about Buckbeak and your arm, listening to Pansy fawn over you was nauseating by the way." She thought aloud as Draco inwardly cringed, his eyes scoring over Hermione with an irritated gleam.

"Of course I like attention." He responded as if she were stupid, "who in their right mind wouldn't? Of course I dress to be looked at, I like to look good. As for that blasted Hippogriff and my arm, have you forgotten I was thirteen? Pansy on the other hand…" he trailed off, shaking his head and smirking slightly. "Again, who in their right mind would turn down the attentions of the opposite sex; you'd get it, what with both Potter and Weasel under your belt." He nodded; as if he knew something she didn't and Hermione flushed, indignant, insulted, and outright confused.

"What do you mean 'both Potter and Weasel under my belt'?" She asked, her voice an almost dangerous whisper. Draco looked at her surprised; his eyebrows raising and his lips parting slightly.

"Well, surely you've slept with both Potter and Weasel, even if you weren't in a relationship with them." He said thickly, and Hermione's eyes bulged, her mouth working as fury flashed over her features, before making way for the laughter quickly bubbling in her throat. She let loose an hysterical wail of hysteria as Draco looked stunned, her head thrown back with her mirth.

"That…that's ridiculous!" She gasped out, wiping away a tear with the back of her hand, "I mean, that's beyond ridiculous, that's…no, I've not slept with either Harry or Ron; Merlin, the first boy to recognise I was a girl was Viktor Krum, by that point Harry and I were becoming like siblings and Ron was just…Ron." She giggled, watching Draco's face carefully, it seemed to becoming tinged with the faintest traces of pink, his lips pulled together in an odd expression of relief, jealousy, and…longing?

"Sorry…I just…assumed." He squirmed clearly uncomfortable, "I know people assume it about me, that I've slept with people; especially Pansy, but…there is no way I'd have done it with her." He revealed, as Hermione began to look shocked.

"Now that one does surprise me," she admitted as Draco poured himself more drink.

"Why is that?"

"Well…you and she were practically inseparable for years." She said, as Draco raised a knowing brow at her and she sighed. "Oh I suppose I can see why you thought it about myself and Harry; even Ron." She conceded as Draco smiled kindly at her.

"Anyway, back to your main question, yes; I like attention, and I still do. Always will. As for the previous years…I either didn't know any better; I found it funny, or it got me attention. They're not very complex reasons, or reasons with some kind of moral backing, but they're…they're the truth." He shrugged, and she smiled, thinking that she'd like to give him attention all the time.

"I guess I understand," She smiled, her cheeks flushing as she realised they'd had a conversation about sex so completely nonchalantly, she'd not even realised it had happened until it had finished. The idea thrilled her; the comfortableness between them so distinct sensitive subjects could be skimmed over in a mature fashion. She blinked, surprised by the respect that he'd addressed it with, and the lack of teasing over both their respective virginities. She poured herself a drink, leaning back in the sofa and swinging her legs up underneath her, comfortable in all senses of the word.

"So you still talk to Krum?" he asked her, plainly jealous and Hermione hid a smile.

"Yes, we still send letters actually, I look forward to them; the last time I got to see him was at Bill and Fleurs' wedding."

"Bill and Fleur?"

"Oh sorry, Bill Weasley and Fleur Delacour," she explained, slightly embarrassed by her assuming Draco knew everything she was talking about; and realising she fell in to the trap because he was just so…easy to talk too. "You'd recognise Fleur actually; she was one of the triwizard champions."

"No, you're kidding." Draco breathed, astonished. "A Weasley…married that?" He asked completely stunned, his eyes glossy the way Hermione had seen both Ron and Harry look at Fleur before and she rolled her eyes.

"I can see why she's attracted to Bill." Hermione said defensively, suddenly feeling rather protective and jealous of Fleur.

"Why is that?" Draco asked, snapping out of his reverie and filling up his cup once more, a sudden tightness to his stance on the sofa.

"Bill is…" Hermione bit her lip, her hand going up to her ear to fiddle with an earring as she thought, "distinguished." She settled on finally, thinking it was the right word to describe his long haired, scarred features.

"Distinguished?" Draco asked bemused, but his shoulders remained tight, a taught expression over his already rather pointed features.

"He's…not conventionally attractive, especially not since Greyback mauled him, but it grows on you; he is different and it works." Hermione explained shrugging as Draco looked horrified.

"He's a werewolf?"

"No thank Merlin, just scarred from the attack." She explained, obviously relieved. "I'm just saying, I definitely understand why Fleur is attracted to him, and now I'm used to her, the marriage doesn't seem that odd." She continued as Draco screwed his face up in disbelief.

"I can't believe a Weasley married a part veela." He said, sitting back in the sofa as Hermione laughed out right.

"Always so negative about the Weasley's," she joked, and Draco stiffened slightly as Hermione looked at him and sighed.

"Oh come on, we can't just…ignore all our history; as much as it's apparently not…as relevant now due to us actually being able to talk to one another without feeling like we need to kill someone afterwards; you have to admit we need to clear the air a little." Hermione continued as Draco rolled her words about in his head, settling his sharp grey eyes upon her.

"You are…right, we do have a history; and as much as I enjoy being punched, I think I'll give antagonising you a miss." He smiled, sipping from his goblet; words still evident in the back of his mouth, "I just don't want to dwell on it too much. I don't want it brought up every time I do something wrong. Doubtless I'll hear it enough when school begins and if I start hearing it from you…when we have to live together, work together…I want to catch some kind of break. I'll admit it right here and right now. I was a scumbag; I probably still am a scumbag, but I'm trying to be…bearable." He said as Hermione started to cringe, "I think you're also forgetting that the Weasel beat my head in the other day building this place, but the girl-"

"Ginny."

"Ginny, she seemed to tolerate me, so we could get along; possibly. I'm not saying it's a sure thing, but I am trying to move on with my life. So let's…let me?" He asked her, as shame began to burn within Hermione again. He had such a way of stripping down the very basics of what she was getting at, and ruining her potential arguments in a way she had never experienced before. He seemed intent on changing her, weather she liked it or not. Her words to him echoed in her mind, 'I want you to be better', his own voice repeating her sentence when they'd argued in the library. Humiliation mingled with the shame, her own selfishness was part of the reason this subject was repeatedly brought up with them; and each time, he rebuffed her. Demonstrating that he already was 'better', but it was her who needed to change, to grow up, and to accept the changing world. The past was relevant, but only if she made it.

"I'm sorry; I just keep expecting you to behave a certain way." She admitted as Draco smiled gently at her.

"Old habits do die hard," he conceded, a thoughtful expression on his face. "But I'm tired Hermione. I'm really tired. I don't have so many expectations on me to behave a certain way. There isn't anyone who expects me to be hateful all the time. Sure, you could argue for yourself, but it's a different type of expectation. You think that way of me because it's all you've seen; you'll hit me, hate me like a school nemesis, but you won't put my life in danger the way it was a few months ago. Things are easier now, and I like it." He sighed picking up a handful of fries and cramming them in his mouth as if he were completely starved. Hermione laughed at him, the image of Harry and Ron eating floating into the forefront of her mind.

"You're much more like Harry than you think you are," She smiled wistfully as Draco sat up bolt straight.

"What."

"You're just…opposite. Neither of you had a choice. It's not like Harry asked for his parents to be murdered when he was a child and becoming the 'chosen one', then there is you; no choice in becoming a Death Eater. Harry is a good leader, with the DA, and you when you were the head of the 'Inquisitorial Squad', you're both…talented. You're both rich and famous, you with your name, Harry because he survived the killing curse…" she shrugged. "I suppose I should stop assuming the past really matters so much because if you two really did mean to put the past behind you; you really could become friends." She said, as Draco looked as if he were considering something.

"When you talk about me, what do you call me now?" He asked her, suddenly serious. She looked up at him in surprise, taking a handful of mixed leaves.

"…Draco." She said slowly.

"I call you Hermione. Not Granger, Hermione." He said as if it were something significant, and Hermione with a jolt, realised it was. They'd only agreed on saying their first names about Teddy, and even with their limited conversing; the unspoken agreement had stuck, bled out of the meetings with Teddy involved and become a staple in their everyday lives.

"I only call you Draco to your face, not to Ginny, or Harry; you're still Malfoy."

"Not the point, to each other we're now Hermione and Draco." He said to her seriously, and with a flush Hermione realised that they'd subconsciously put the past behind them already; a shift already taken towards the future with their names.

"I guess I ought to be honest with you;" She began, nerves ripping her insides up, "I'd like to get to know you more now." She said to him honestly, and he smiled slowly, a careful delicious smirk spreading over his lips.

"I might be able to allow that."


	20. Permission and Alley

**AN: Good news! I may have a beta, so updates will definitely slow, but the quality of this should rise if we can work out an agreement.**

"Ginny, that's…so very you." Hermione breathed, holding her friends left hand in her own gently, admiring the surprisingly large cushion cut diamond upon her finger. The ring was simple, a white gold band with the lone diamond, unfussy; but large enough that it most certainly got the point across. She was engaged to Harry Potter; and the Weasley's were most certainly moving up in the world.

"I think it's a bit much, but…it's so damn sparkly, I just couldn't take my eyes off it. Harry noticed, and even though I thought we should go for something smaller…" She shrugged, clearly pleased with her latest, and most important piece of jewellery. "I can't say I'll be complaining about wearing this for the rest of my life!"

Hermione laughed with her, admiring the seventeen year olds investment once more. She looked at her carefully, sensing that despite their extremely young ages; neither of them were actually rushing into marriage.

"Mum wants us to start organising the wedding immediately," Ginny said quietly, reading Hermione's expression flawlessly, her tone taking on an urgent note as she spoke, "It's…that's not going to happen. I don't want to get married until I'm at least in my twenties. Being engaged for three years is just going to happen. Get the house sorted, and a job; then let's think about a wedding; but Mum…" she sighed, chewing her lip slightly worriedly, as Hermione nodded sorrow escaping her like birds scared from a field.

"How is she?" Hermione asked gently, squeezing Ginny's hand.

"Not good. It's great Ron is getting help but…"

"She should go too?"

"Yeah…you know…as horrible as this is; Fred…dead, I really thought that if one of us died in the war; it would bring us even closer together but…" her voice cracked, and Hermione took her other hand in her own, running her thumbs comfortingly over that backs of her hands, as Ginny's eyes filled with tears. "None of us can handle being around one another properly, it just hurts so much; we can't bear being around Mum because she smothers us so much, but if you're not around her…" she blinked, and the tears slipped from her eyes; sparkling silver streams from a chocolate pool. Hermione pulled Ginny into an embrace as the window of the Burrow became shaded, the silhouettes of several birds coming into view.

"I think we've got post," she said to Ginny, giving her a final squeeze before letting her go, and walking over to the bedroom window to let the four owls in. Ginny pulled herself together, glancing out the window and left quickly, noticing the water dish for owls was empty, and the treats were running low, as the birds landed with a soft flump on Hermione's bed, each of them jutting their leg out. Hermione set to releasing the birds from their messages and they each fluffed themselves up, hoping to the perch; breathing heavily. Ginny returned, and placed the dish of water towards the owls, as Hermione offered her two of the letters.

"Two each," Hermione smiled, as they set about unfurling the parchment; a badge falling from their letters. The pair squealed, suddenly elated as the reality they would be returning to Hogwarts set in.

"Captains badge!" Ginny grinned, as Hermione held up her Head Girl's badge with an identical beam.

"I can't believe I have my last Hogwarts letter." Hermione said, holding it in her hands with a reverence she hadn't expected.

"Yeah, then after this year you'll have to be an adult, careful, people will expect something of you then. Almost like you have to defeat a dark wizard." Ginny joked as Hermoine grinned once more. Ginny was already unfurling her other letter, the dreamy scribble of Luna clearly visible as Hermione glanced over. Picking up her other letter, she looked at it in amazement, realising that it was almost identical to hers only the top line of it read 'Dear Mr Draco Malfoy'. She blinked, before realising there was another curled up parchment that she'd somehow missed on top of it, and she unfurled it; shaking her head at her idiocy.

_Hermione,_

_I know this is a lot to ask of you, but as I am still under house-arrest at Hogwarts, it is rather illegal of me to get to Diagon Alley and buy next years' school equipment without being arrested. I am asking if you would be kind enough to buy my supplies for me; and upon receiving them, I will reimburse you fully: with profit should you demand it. I've included the list of items I need with this message; please let me know if you can do it, so I can beg someone else. _

_I would go myself of course, but I am unable to find supervision to do so. _

_I look forward to seeing you again. _

_Draco_

The message was brief, and an odd mix of formal and casual that Hermione had sometimes come to expect from the man. She twisted her mouth, wondering if he could get supervision to see Teddy the time she'd run into him at Andromeda's, he could most certainly do it again. The last line melted her heart, as she realised that she was actually beginning to miss him when she visited the Weasley's for a night or two, and even if he didn't miss her too; she could pretend with his last words.

"Hermione?" Harry asked her worriedly, and she jumped, looking up at him startled.

"Harry! I didn't realise you'd come in, sorry; hello! Did you need something?" She asked feeling slightly flustered all of a sudden. The owls suddenly started to flap, taking their leave, save one regal looking bird with a disgruntled stare. She looked at it, realising she recognised the owl as Draco's and figured it was waiting for a reply.

"You ok?" Harry asked, as Ginny looked at her with a confused expression.

"I'm fine, look…Harry; do you still want to…clear the air with Malfoy? Because I think I've found you a chance to do so without things looking like you've gone out of your way to do it." She said to him, holding up Draco's letter with a serious look. Harry took it from her, reading it carefully; his expression tightening as he lowered the note, and an odd look flickered behind his eyes as he regarded Hermione.

"I could supervise, as could Ginny, and you." He said finally. "As I understand it, he just has to be supervised by someone else. They don't view him as much of a threat in the auror department thanks to McGonagall's updates." A strange expression, one tinged with torment flickered over his features again; "send him a reply, tell him if he's ok with me being his supervisor, we'll go tomorrow. I can clear this with Shacklebolt." He finished, turning to Ginny as Hermione began to grab for parchment, writing a harried reply, her heart singing with the idea of possibly seeing Draco again tomorrow. She attached the message to his owl, and it left immediately, flying with a speed Hermione began to admire.

"Harry…" Ginny was saying as Hermione started to pay attention once more.

"You're going to be my wife Ginny, better get used to spending my cash."

"But…"

"No buts."

"Oh Gin, just do it." Hermione broke in; figuring out what Harry was trying to do immediately. "You're going to be a Potter, you might as well realise you will never want for money ever again, if he trusts you with his finances now, it bodes well if you can learn to manage them together as soon as possible." She said pointedly as Ginny sighed; Hermione's own brains ticking over as she realised just how much stuff she would need for Hogwarts. Her trunk had been lost, and so had her robes; thankfully all her books had been saved, but she knew dress robes were a likely possibility that year as well.

"Fine Harry, you can pay for me." She begrudged him, as Harry grinned delightedly.

:: :: ::

The owl belonging to Draco made an appearance once more at dinner, and Hermione gasped realising how much work the bird had had to do that day. She rushed to it, jumping up from the table with surprise as the Weasley's looked at her curiously.

"That's the second time I've seen that bird today!" Ginny exclaimed jumping up with Hermione and taking it in, as Hermione took the note off its leg. Harry looked at them curiously, as if they were making plans without him, until Hermione's face contorted with a mix of amusement, horror and pride.

"Harry," She said, looking up at him, "It's from Malfoy, he says; and I quote 'See you at nine a.m tomorrow morning then; tell Potter to come to McGonagall's office to collect me, she has to sign me out there, and I have to sign myself back in. Let him know I won't give him any trouble, I don't want to go to Azkaban. If he feels more comfortable transfiguring me into a teapot for the trip, let him do it. I just want my school supplies.' Seriously. He said you can make him a teapot." She grinned, passing Harry the note as the Weasley's fell into a shell shocked silence.

"I'll get him at nine a.m then." Harry said his face a picture of surprise. "I'll meet you and Ginny in the Leaky Cauldron at ten past at the latest. If he isn't in the office at nine, I will leave him there." He warned as Hermione nodded, thinking her friend was doing more than she'd ever expected for an old nemesis.

"Fair enough," she replied, sitting down as Draco's owl observed them all quietly; apparently settling down for a sleep, the Weasley's staring at their two honorary children with wary eyes.

:: :: ::

"Hermione," He said warmly, the weight of his eyes upon her in a way he'd never done before, a slight curl of a smile on his lips, his hands in his suit pockets. He dragged his eyes away from her, nodding to Ginny stiffly. "…Ginny." He acknowledged, and Hermione blinked at him, as Ginny's jaw dropped.

"Nice to see you too." Ginny replied, as Harry's hand slipped into hers. The weight of a thousand eyes seemed to fall upon Hermione suddenly, as a flashbulb went off, as bright as a supernova and Harry sighed heavily.

"The bloody press are here," he said grimly, pulling Ginny into him in a protective stance, as Draco seemed to step closer to Hermione, so close that his fresh grassy, earthy scent began to wash over her.

"I suggest we make for the first shop and not hang about much at all," Draco said quietly, raising his brows suggestively as he looked at Harry. He nodded, his face still grim, and guided them out of the Leaky Cauldron as whispers began to erupt like bubbles of lava, expressions of hatred co-mingling with glances of admiration, respect, and love. People stepped back from them, pressing themselves against the tables as they walked past. Harry's expression set and determined, as if he were back on a mission, and Hermione realised Ginny was allowing herself to be protected for the sake of Harry's sanity. She looked at him as Draco touched the small of her back with his fingertips, making her breath hitch in her throat as he guided her through the crowd, and another series of bulbs went off; this time, more. She understood Harry's request for privacy deeply. A man grabbed at Ginny's left hand and she screamed, Harry whipping around immediately as the press sensed a throng of drama. They converged on her, as Harry's wand found its way into his hand. Ginny's own wand out and a look of familiar fury on her face.

"Let 'em pass." Came the voice of the bartender Tom, who was watching with a warning expression on his face, a tinge of respect there too. The whispers continued to explode, and the bodies still thronged about her; the feeling of helplessness increasing. The tension began to fade as Tom spoke, the man who had grabbed at Ginny stepping back, a leering grin still on his face, as Harry gently pushed Ginny away; out to the back of the pub and the wall.

The idea that she had become something famous in her own right had shocked her. It wasn't the first time she'd encountered the press, the day of the conference had swarmed her, and the aftermath of her fainting had been politely not brought up by those she loved. Draco seemed to be closer to her again, and she took in a deep breath, drowning in his earthy smell as his low, distinct drawl reached her ears.

"Look like you've got something to do, and somewhere to be, like none of this isn't happening." He advised her, his own expression one of a schooled distaste and boredom as he looked ahead. She quickly pulled her own expression into one she hoped was vaguely similar, focusing her eyes upon the copper hues of Ginny's hair, Harry's raven mop just ahead of her. The wall to Diagon Alley was blessedly open, and they ducked through it quickly, spying Madam Malkin's ahead.

"In we go," Harry said briskly, his hand on the small of Ginny's back as he pushed her gently into the shop. Hermione rushed after, the enclosed space of the shop suddenly feeling safe as the door closed. Madam Malkin appeared almost immediately at the sound of new customers, her jaw dropping in a way it had never done before the moment she laid eyes upon them.

"Oh Merlin, Harry Potter, Hermione Granger…and Mr Malfoy." She exclaimed as Ginny rolled her eyes, "And Ginny Weasley," Madam Malkin continued, the pause only so she could gasp for breath. Ginny's cheeks flushed immediately, and she looked stunned at the sudden reverence her name held upon the woman's lips. She was bustling past them, her wand out and flicked at the door closing it immediately, the sign in the window flipping around to 'closed' as Harry, Hermione and Ginny looked at her astounded, only Draco stepped forward, as if he were used to the treatment.

"We need three sets of school robes." He told her expectant face as he continued to walk into the shop, aiming for the little podium she measured her clients on. The three of them remained glued to the spot, unaware of what was happening, as Harry closed his eyes in a painful realisation. She'd closed the shop for them. So they could shop in privacy. His eyes flew open again as Hermione came to the same conclusion; a surprising benefit to the sudden fame and wealth they'd accumulated.

"Ladies first," Draco drawled as Ginny stepped forward, boldly and proud. He moved to the side for her, and she threw him another startled glance as she realised he meant what he said, and wasn't holding an undercurrent of malice to his tone. He really was giving her the podium first, and not implying she was a bossy and demanding Weaselette. Draco looked up at Harry and Hermione, still standing in the doorway with stunned expressions and a smirk developed as they walked towards him.

"You don't know how to be rich." He observed with amusement as the pair of them looked awkward. "Get used to it," he advised, "I don't think this will go away soon." He gestured to the window where members of the press had pressed themselves up against the glass windows, their cameras forward and flashing as they took picture after picture, their actions creating a bubbling crowd.

"I can't believe it's like this," Hermione bemoaned, staring at them glumly.

"Why?" Draco said amused, "you only helped kill a huge tyrant and bring the wizarding world into what they're now calling a new era. Of course it's going to be like this." He chuckled, "you've made it worse by hiding away at Hogwarts, and where ever you've been Potter. This is the first time they've seen you out and about; they've been starving for you three. The headlines tomorrow are going to be great, they're going to be all about you ditching Weasley, probably accuse you of cheating on him with me; I'll be painted either tragically or as a complete murderer, who knows…" Draco continued clearly amused by the entire situation as Ginny stood on the podium, the measuring tapes swarming about her. Her own face a picture of sheer annoyance as she glared out the window.

"I guess you've a point, we really should have at least made an effort to go to Fortescues or something," Hermione said sighing as Harry threw her a pained look.

"We're not a bloody show Hermione!" He exclaimed as Hermione closed her eyes.

"We aren't, but Malfoy is right, we…we did kill a Dark Wizard, when we should have been in school…of course they're going to be interested, and the only way to keep them at bay is to show us out and about, control what they see and when they see it, instead of them turning up at Hogwarts like they have been, and probably searching for the Burrow."

Malfoy tipped his head at Harry, and began to saunter off into the shop, looking at sets of shirts as if he hadn't just caused both Harry and Hermione internal breakdowns.

"Merlin I hate being me sometimes," Harry commented staring out at the chaos as Ginny finished her turn on the podium.

:: :: ::

Hermione and Ginny browsed the racks of clothing as Draco was fitted for his robes, pretending they couldn't hear the boys from the other side of the empty shop. They exchanged a furtive glance, both recognising that they were eaves dropping, and grinned.

"I dunno how to say this," Draco was saying as the measuring tapes flitted about him like humming birds, "I guess…sorry. I've been a complete dick. Would be nice if we could maybe start…fresh." He said awkwardly, the effort of the words causing him a real pain. Hermione bit her lip, stifling a giggle as Ginny looked at her from the corner of her eye, her own jaw dropping as she pretended to look at what could only be described as a hideous dress.

"I'm sorry too. Especially for…" Harry made a slashing motion across his chest and the two girls stopped their fake rummaging for a moment, before going back to it hurriedly; hoping the men hadn't noticed.

"I'm alive." Draco responded gruffly.

"I've been a dick too though." Harry admitted his voice rough; the sheer effort the conversation was requiring of the two almost comical to the girls.

"Hermione says we're similar," Draco said as if he didn't know whether he should be pleased or not at the comparison.

"How so?" Harry asked, suddenly interested; but his own tone reflected Draco's and Ginny rolled her eyes.

"Says we both had our choice removed from us, that we're both leaders, both talented, both rich and famous. Sounds like we should be best buds Potter." Draco drawled lightly, the now familiar richness to his voice that he showed so often about Hermione slipping back into his tones, as if the apologies were out the way, everything was suddenly easier.

"Sounds like it," Harry agreed, his expression one of torment as Hermione dismissed another dress she'd been faking interest in. "I do wonder what it would have been like if I'd shaken your hand that day." Harry admitted as Draco raised his eyebrows.

"Probably would have worked out the same Potter; remember, our choice was removed." He grunted, as Harry nodded.

"Yeah, but according to the reports McGonagall sends the ministry, and how Hermione now speaks of you, seems like you're actually becoming tolerable."

"I'm…trying." Draco said in a pained tone, a measuring tape snapping against his elbow.

"I can't help but think it's a bit suspicious though Malfoy, that you're suddenly all sweetness and light." Draco sighed, and the tiredness that Hermione so often felt came to surface on his visage, that same familiar fatigue surprisingly evident in Harry's own expression.

"How do you feel now you've defeated the Dark Lord?" Draco asked him; his tone dry, dull, worn.

"Like I'm free I guess, only now I don't know what to do with myself." Harry admitted, screwing his face up with irritation.

"Sounds familiar," Draco replied in his droll tone, "all of a sudden I don't have to hate all the time, and you would not believe how easy it is to just…talk to people." He explained as Harry looked at him stunned. "Expectations of me have been lifted, I'm free of Azkaban; thanks…to you and Hermione, and now all I want to do is survive it." He said his tone picking up the steely confidence Hermione recognised from so many years before.

"Is this a clean slate for the pair of us?" Harry asked, "Especially as Hermione seems to be regarding you…highly lately, and if you're going to be friends with her; I don't want to fight with people she likes. Unless you're McLaggen; because you're a dick Malfoy, but you've never cracked my skull."

"That's bloody loyal of you," Draco remarked, as Harry scowled, his attempt at a joking fresh start apparently rebuked. "But I think it is. It could take some work for us to consider each other…friends; but I'm willing to give it ago if you are." He said sincerely. Harry nodded, and held out his hand, which Draco clasped immediately. Their grip was strong, tough and Ginny threw a smirk to Hermione, as she smiled.

"He's making friends with Harry for you Hermione," Ginny whispered lowly, her eyes glittering with knowing as Hermione blushed. The men let go and nodded, Harry stepping away from Draco as if their conversation had been enough work for him that day.

:: :: ::

They'd left Madam Malkin's almost unwillingly, bags in their hands, dragged up to their chests as if it were armour. The throng had stepped back, as they'd stepped out of the shop, so that their pictures would be in focus, and questions could be screamed at them. Harry had stepped behind Ginny immediately, his stance protective, as self-consciously, Ginny twisted her ring on her hand so that the gem was hidden. Draco stepped behind Hermione, and his hand once again touched the small of her back softly, his bodily warmth revealing just how close he was to her as he nudged her gently forward. Hermione fought to keep her expression impassive, as if nothing had happened as Harry began to lead them into Flourish and Blotts. She jogged slightly to keep up with them, as Ginny pushed the door open, ducking inside, Harry behind her. Draco's hand managed to remain on her back as she rushed to join them; and as the camera flashes popped, the shouts of press assaulted her ears, it was the soft pressure of his fingertips that kept her sane.

The welcome smell of parchment washed over her as she entered the shop, the instant muffled quiet that came from people carefully choosing their books was welcome and familiar. It was almost calming given the cacophony of noise that was now following them as they attempted to shop. Harry seemed as if the whole outing was a complete and utter night mare.

"Right, let's just get the list out, get the books and go. I want to go into Quality Quidditch Supplies, and finish getting everything else so we can escape." Harry said tensely as a delighted cry came from behind them. Hermione spun around, shocked, as the door was blocked once more, the press that had just been about to come in barred to their furious cries.

"Miss Hermione Granger!" A shop assistant called with joy, completely ignoring Harry, Ginny and Draco who shared grins behind her, "how can we help you?" the assistant seemed to ask rapturously as Hermione opened and closed her mouth, at a loss for words.

"We need school books," she managed, handing over the three book lists to the man who immediately rushed off to comply.

"You're famous here Hermione," Draco drawled, his silver eyes alight with mirth.

"Oh gosh." Hermione moaned, as books began to fly off the shelves, straight to the counter at the front of the shop, and she realised she was receiving the celebrity treatment once more.

"Get me my aurors books while you're at it Hermione," Harry grinned, handing her a sheet of paper with a long list, and thoroughly enjoying the spotlight being on her instead of him, "you know I'll be paying for it myself."

"Yes, yes," she sighed, taking the slip of parchment and handing it to the assistant who was now scurrying back, his watery blue eyes still sparkling with delight, his mouth open as if he were literally about to ask if there was anything else he could help them with. Spying the new list, his eyes began to water; as if their very demand for so many books was quite simply the best moment of his life, and once more, books flew off the shelves to the front of the shop. The small group began to amble on over, ready to pay as the books were wrapped of their own accord.

:: :: ::

Ok, Harry, Draco, go to Quality Quidditch Supplies, Ginny and I will get the potions supplies, Harry knows what to get Ginny; then we'll meet in Wizeacre's Wizarding Equipment." Hermione was saying after they'd paid and sorted out the packages of books by the door; where the shop assistant was dutifully waiting for them to sort out their plan before unlocking the door, and unleashing them on the hungry pack animals outside. She'd spied Draco casually removing several galleons from his wallet, so subtly that she wasn't sure anyone else had noticed, and realised he planned to tip the man; despite it not being customary, because Flourish and Blotts _was not _a shop used to closing off custom for a small group of people. His kindness momentarily stunned her as the others nodded, their expressions set and resolute, as Hermione checked she had Draco's supply letter with hers, and she nodded back to them, her heart sinking as she realised she was to be separated from him momentarily.

"You are ready Miss Granger?" The shop assistant asked her dutifully, and she smiled warmly at him, pouring as much gratitude as she could into her expression. The man blushed and looked bashful as he unlocked the door.

"Yes, thank you," she smiled as he let the outside in, Harry leading the group as Draco went to shake the man's hand, a large amount of gold pressed into his palm.

"Thank you," he said to the man, passing the money off to him as the assistants watery eyes widened. Draco let him go, leaving the shop as Hermione scurried to reach Ginny, inwardly beaming at the thought of the man discovering how much he'd earned for his kindness. Ginny was waiting for her, a determined set to her build, and Hermione fell into step beside her, as the press seemed to realise the group was splitting; seeming troubled as to who to follow. Deciding Harry with an old enemy was far more interesting than his fiancé and a member of the golden trio, the majority of the press began to block their path to the quidditch shop; the girl's path to Slug and Jiggers Apothecary easier to walk. They slipped into the shop, breathing easier as the weight of the press was lessened, and set to measuring and weighing ingredients immediately.

"If we could speed up here and pop into Scribbulus's, that would be brilliant," Ginny said to her as they weighed newt eyes, "I desperately need a new quill or ten. Harry will be forever in that shop, even if he is with Malfoy," Ginny grinned.

"Actually, the whole idea of new stationary sounds great to me, and far more interesting than this." Hermione smiled, holding up lacewing's and rolling her eyes with boredom as Ginny laughed.

"Let's get sorted then." Ginny decided for them as a shop assistant headed for them; a look of elated recognition across her youthful features, and Ginny threw Hermione a look, as if Christmas had come early.

:: :: ::

"They've…they've released a new broom in honour of me." Harry said awkwardly, holding up two long thin packages in the distinctive shape of a broomstick. He passed one to Ginny, who looked as though she wished to unwrap it right then and there as Draco looked at her with an amused smirk. "It's called the Starfire, and it's the fastest on the market," Draco told her as she held it tighter to her body, looking at Harry with a knowing expression.

"They pretty much gave you these brooms didn't they?" She asked him as Harry flushed and nodded, seeming ever so awkward at the sheer amount of free stuff they had been receiving that day. The moment the girls had stepped into Scribbulus's, they'd received free quills and ink bottles, and Harry had revealed the moment the shop assistant had realised he was Harry Potter, all his auror's books had been given to him for nothing, despite him quietly insisting. Ginny had also admitted their potion's supplies were half price, and she was now eyeing a trunk decorated with leaves and vines longingly. The four of them had once again managed to get the shop shut for them, once they'd all regrouped in Wizeacre's, and the peace was allowing them the chance for the conversation; as they browsed the goods.

"Do you want it Gin?" Harry asked her as Ginny flushed immediately, looking embarrassed.

"Well…I do need my own trunk, not Bill's old one that is…well; it's falling apart." She admitted, biting her lip shame faced; the idea of spending so much money frivolously was new to her, and Hermione could tell the whole idea of getting so much new stuff in one day that wasn't second hand was overwhelming for the girl; even if most of it had been free. Draco was looking astonished at Ginny's words, but extremely interested in a trunk that had several locks on the front of it. Harry had noted the same, and a thoughtful expression was crossing over his features.

"Hey," he said to the shop assistant who seemed to be hoping they'd need him, despite his hovering on the other side of the shop in a respectful manner. "Is there any chance you have one of these," He began, pointing to one of the chests with several locks on the front, "decorated like that?" he finished, gesturing to the trunk with the vines. Ginny's jaw dropped, and she looked flat out mortified as Draco's eyes began to search for Hermione's. They locked gazes, and he raised his eye brow, asking her something she couldn't quite work out silently. Ginny seemed to be protesting as the shop assistant had brought out a catalogue, and was showing Harry all the designs the trunk with the locks came in; and was picking one out for himself. Draco stepped forward, realising Hermione hadn't picked up what he was trying to say.

"Would you like one Hermione?" He asked her quietly, as Harry and Ginny were absorbed in picking out a trunk, Harry over stepping Ginny's weak protests with her own admittance earlier as a weapon.

"Me?" Hermione gasped, "Well, yeah, I suppose I would, they're unbelievably useful…all that space…" She sighed, already planning a compartment for potions, several for books, one for her stationary…

"What one?" Draco asked her, as her jaw dropped.

"Don't be silly! I'll buy one myself; if I can afford one." She conceded, realising that her mental planning actually meant she'd now really like such a frivolous spend.

"Hermione. I saw how many blasted books came from your room in Gryffindor to our rooms, I don't think you will actually have space in your bedroom if things continue, and I'll be damned if I let you clutter up our sitting room. I'm buying you one." He insisted lowly, stepping yet closer to her, his face blazing and determined; a blush blooming upon Hermione's cheeks. "Pick one or I'll pick one for you, and my choice will be awful." He threatened, as Hermione bit her lip. She nodded, sensing a battle about to be lost as the shop assistant began ringing up Harry and Ginny's purchases. Draco signalled to the man, as Hermione picked up the now abandoned catalogue and began flicking through it, until a mahogany coloured chest stood out, a gold trim to it, and a simple carving of a lion in one corner of its lid. It was simple, beautiful, and called out to her house loyalty.

"That one?" Draco asked, pointing to the one Hermione had paused at, and she nodded as the shop assistant joined them.

"Can I help you?" He asked carefully, hopefully sensing another sale about to be made as Ginny stared at her ochre chest with leaves with such adoration Hermione thought she would laugh, until she saw the look on Harry's face; his expression filled with so much love as he gazed at Ginny, her heart melted.

"Yes, we'd like this chest, and this one." Draco was saying, pointing to Hermione's choice and one that had been polished black with silver trimmings, even more simple than her own. The shop assistant's eyes widened with joy as Draco made strides towards the till, withdrawing his wallet as Harry and Ginny came over to her.

"Malfoy is buying you a trunk?" Harry asked absolutely stunned as Ginny's eyes sparkled knowingly.

"Apparently so." She admitted, watching the blond haired man hand over money, and the two trunks begin to levitate through a door; her new possession carefully handled.

"The world is going mad," Harry sighed as Ginny laughed.


	21. Pure and Pass

**AN: Exciting news! Here is the very first chapter beta'd by Maddiechu.**

Also, we're about half way through at this point! Loooong fic is long.

The group apparated back into McGonagall's office with several thuds, a stumble, and a very relieved collective sigh. The lack of flashbulbs was relaxing, and the soft scratching of a quill on parchment was soothing; a balm on the furious waters.

"You are back much earlier than I expected Mr Malfoy," McGonagall greeted them, throwing looks of affection towards Hermione and Harry; a slight hint of pride behind her eyes as she viewed Harry. Her shrewd eyes twinkled at Ginny, and changed once more, to a shadow of pride and pleasure as she regarded Draco. It was as if her opinion of him were changing. She stepped forward, a roll of parchment in her hand and a quill in the other as she noticed their purchases, cluttering up the space between them; and a very sheepish look suddenly spread across Ginny's features. McGonagall sighed, handing the parchment to Harry, who signed under the title of 'auror', then to Draco, who signed it, a flicker of relief as he did so.

"I'm afraid allowing you to keep your possessions here before term starts may cause a little issue unless you can work something out with Miss Granger here," McGonagall told Ginny as the redhead blushed.

"No, no, I haven't packed everything I need yet, only, I did think it would be nice to not have my trunk come September first." She mused, as Hermione grinned, Draco mirroring her expression as the pair of them had both been pretty much using their rooms as storage. Draco had been living there, but Hermione had only spent a brief night in her spacious room, the rest of the time was spent at the Weasley's. McGonagall threw Ginny a knowing twinkle as Harry bent to hold Ginny's trunk handle, preparing himself for the trip back.

A loud clattering came from the hallway outside the office, and Harry put the trunk down, his posture ready to go to battle should it be required. The door flew open, and Hagrid's crouching figure appeared in the doorway.

"It's time Minerva," he said, his face pale and wan, the black bushy beard making his face shine like the surface of the moon. McGonagall looked horrified immediately, as confusion began to cloud the gathered students, Harry looking as though he knew exactly what to do.

"Shall I summon Shacklebolt?" He asked McGonagall with a serious tone, as Hagrid dithered in the doorway. She turned her terrified eyes to Harry, and Hermione took a subconscious step back, not expecting to see a sheer expression of fear upon her Headmistress' face. Draco stepped into her path, as if providing himself for her to use as support, the gentle pressure of his fingertips were at the base of her spine once more. Without thinking, she tipped her head back, resting it on his shoulder. The apprehension that had so tainted her moment before blown away with each breath he took, cool and warm on the top of her head.

"What if we are wrong Albus?" Minerva breathed, staring up at the portrait of Dumbledore who had shifted the moment Hagrid had appeared, now looking down on them with a look of trust.

"There is only one way to find out." He said, resigning himself to the fates as McGonagall turned to face Harry once more.

"Summon the Minister Mr Potter." She said, pulling herself together. "Miss Weasley, send for your family. Miss Granger, you help her; then all of you follow me. Let them know it's an emergency." She informed them briskly, as her silver tabby slipped from her wand.

"Hagrid, where is it?" She asked him gesturing for them all to follow as Harry's stag burst forward, quickly followed by Ginny's horse, whilst Hermione's otter swam after them. Malfoy looked on in jealous awe, stepping forward; his curiosity on fire.

"Was just abou' heading towards the entrance when I ran up here." He answered, stepping back so that they could all pile onto the stairs. Hermione was confused; sensing the urgency in McGonagall's tone and feeling as though she was missing something astronomical, she twisted her lips in confusion just as the stairs juddered into moving, McGonagall already halfway down them.

"Hurry!" McGonagall snapped, hoisting her robes up in one of her hands, her wand out at the ready. The school ghosts seemed to be gathering, glimpses of translucent silver were sinking through walls heading to the entrance hall as Nearly Headless Nick was spotted almost dragging the Grey Lady down through the ceiling. Hermione almost faltered to a stop, spying the alarmed and urgent looks upon their ancient faces. McGonagall was already halfway down the hall with Harry close behind her, the familiar stance of challenge in his gait. Ginny was streaming after them, as Draco's hand slipped into hers. He looked at her, serious and sure as he interlocked his fingers with hers.

"Get it together Granger," he said gruffly, calling her by her surname for the first time in ages; she felt a sense of purpose flood into her, mingled with nostalgia. Before she even had a chance to register, the elated flush hit her cheeks as Draco held her hand, and the shock at him calling her by her surname; he was dragging her down the corridor. His run; catlike with its grace, her own run stumbling in comparison. The pair of them charged down to the entrance hall; urgent, but somehow acting as if they were the only two In the world despite the ear splitting cracks of multiple apparitions assaulted them as they reached the staircase to the entrance hall. He let go of her hand, and the sense of emptiness filled her once more.

"Minerva!" Molly was saying, harried as Bill and Fleur arrived, child free. "What's happened?" Draco and Hermione joined the gathering group as Andromeda arrived, throwing an extremely apologetic glance at Bill and Fleur, who looked extremely concerned and affronted.

"Your babe is safe," Andromeda said to them apologetically, "But I had to come too." She explained as looks of relief fluttered over their faces.

Both Arthur and Percy arrived, and the sharp crack of George following as the staff of Hogwarts came thundering from the staff room. McGonagall looked at the group, counting heads and looking concerned until Shacklebolt arrived, his face a mixture of apologies and business. The ghosts were hovering like stars about the ceiling, all peering down; for the first time in their lives concerned with the events that may affect the school.

"It's time to fix the school" she explained, evidently pleased that the group was large enough, a surprise registering on her face as she spotted Andromeda, but not questioning, as she regarded them all. "I ask from all of you that on my mark; you cast every warding spell you know. Every single one and you channel as much love as you can into those spells. I will explain everything afterwards, but we're running out of time." She explained as hooves clattered onto the stone of the floor.

The group shifted, turning to look behind them as the unicorn arrived, blood pouring down its legs. White and silver mingled, bright and shining, fur and blood becoming interchangeable, as the eyes of the creature regarded them all; slow and proud. Molly gasped as Ginny gave a weak cry, Madam Pomfrey and Professor Sprout each shared an agonised glance as George swore and Flitwick stepped back. Hermione stared, agonised; instinctively searching for Draco who took up her hand again, heat burning her as his touch registered in her overly tormented senses. He squeezed her hand, turning to look her in the eye, his winter like gaze ablaze with concern. She stared back, giving her head a slight nod as the group began to pull back, allowing the unicorn and easy path.

The only sound in the room was the hooves of the unicorn, carefully and deliberately stepping through the hall, the sound of it echoing off the walls making it seem so much louder than it was.

"Are we doing nothing Minerva?" Molly asked, clearly traumatised, staring at the unicorn whose blood was being accepted by the school unnoticed.

"It has come here for a purpose Molly, we've had our eye on it for weeks now, I've been wondering; hoping it wasn't true but…" She trailed off, and sighed, a slight waver to her voice. "We can't do anything; we cannot interfere. Please, just…wait, and do what I asked of you when I ask you. It is…vital."

The unicorn was passing them all, a determined gait until it stopped suddenly, as if deciding where it needed to be; as if right at the foot of the stairs was the most beautiful and peaceful place in the world. It turned, slumping slightly, before falling to its knees and tipping to the side. It's back rested up against the very first step. The horrified and tormented gasps happened again, as the group formed once more, to take a step to observe the unicorn.

"It's…it's not dying is it?" George asked quietly, watching its laboured breaths. The white hairs on its flanks drenched with sweat.

"Yeh." Hagrid replied for McGonagall, gruffly; displeasure and sadness evident. There was something alarmingly painful about a unicorn's death.

The demise was slow, agonising, and terrible to watch.

It was as if all the good in the world were gathering, balling up into one shining being, before slowly dissipating. But not before filling you with so much joy; such hope, so much beauty that upon its leaving, a hole in the heart was created. Blood pumped into emptiness. Its eyes began to close, and McGonagall raised her wand expectantly. As grief began to swarm Hermione; the idea of thinking of love, let alone channelling it began to seem impossible.

Until she looked at Draco.

She looked at him, drinking in the sharp curves of his jaw line, the definition of his cheekbones. The way his hair, like stolen moonlight fell over his brows; the light shimmer of tears in his wintery eyes. The determined set to his pale pink lips; that so often split into a smile, filled with happiness it made Hermione's heart sing.

"Now!" McGonagall demanded, and Hermione snapped into action, the old habit of warding their tent coming back to her wrist as if it were all her hand had ever done. Channelling love wasn't the hard part. Not in the slightest. Not when she realised who she was doing this for. Herself. She loved herself; she wanted herself to 'get better' as Draco had said to her, as she had said to Draco. She wanted to learn, she loved to learn; nothing made her happier than learning. She loved her school. Yes. Channelling love into her spell work was going to be the easiest thing in the world.

She cast spell after spell a smile on her face, images of the time spent in the library at the forefront of her mind, the laughter in the Gryffindor common room, the welcoming feasts. The two boys she'd grown up with in classes, the chats with Ginny in the hallways, the walk about with Draco Malfoy. Then as the last spell was cast, the image of Draco smiling cockily at her lingered.

She lowered her wand and straightened up a little, realising she had apparently slumped whilst casting the tirade of warding spells. Tears streamed down her cheeks, dampening the collar of her blouse, her throat constricting mildly. The image of Draco suddenly vanishing as fast as it had come. She flicked her eyes to the base of the stair; giving a strangled cry as she realised the unicorn had vanished completely. Gasps and alarmed murmurs burst from the group as they realised the same, their heads whipping about as if they were waiting for something to happen.

Then it began.

A low, terrible rumble began to send the walls into a shiver. A drum like bang was followed by another. And another. And another. Ear splitting shudders spilt over the school. The group looked between themselves, anxious and afraid. Harry pulled Ginny into him again as Draco positioned himself behind Hermione, as if he were about to throw himself over her should something dreadful happen; just as Ron stepped closer to her.

McGonagall took a wary step back, her hands rising to her mouth in sheer horror.

"The wall." Draco said quietly, his eyes glued to the crack that had split across the stone, shattering the smooth surface with its scar. The air had begun to shimmer, a bright iridescent brilliant gleam. It rippled like heatwaves; every colour imaginable bursting like a supernova across her vision, and pulsating across the crack in the stone.

It was shrinking.

The castle rumbled again, and Draco pressed himself up against Hermione, almost instinctively as Ginny gasped.

"The stone." She said much like Draco had a moment ago; only her voice was filled with awe. The light was making it hard to see things, as Hermione began to feel hot. The ghosts looking uncomfortable and McGonagall was being helped to the floor by Flitwick and Shacklebolt. The stones that had been carefully left in place over the summer were now in the air; the dust that had come from them, oddly not blown by the winds that had gone through the school was now swirling about them slotting themselves into the walls again, glowing brighter than their eyes could bare. The stone sealed itself into the masonry as if nothing had touched it, and cheering exploded from the ghosts above them. The crack vanished, finally sealed hiding the bright pulsating light that seemed to seep from the very wall.

"So much magic," McGonagall gasped, as the rumbles and explosions of light continued, before settling down to a halt. She trembled, her elderly hands clearly disturbed by something; as Hermione began to feel empowered and stronger than she'd ever had before; her skin truly on fire. Something tugged at her very core, dragging it around as if she were tied by her ankle to the back of a raging bull. It was pain and pleasure entwined. She fell to her knees; as Draco stumbled behind her, clutching his stomach. Then it vanished. Just as fast as it had come.

The air began to return to its usual boring self, as dull thuds echoed through the halls, the final stones coming together.

"Did…did whatever it was work?" Molly asked dumbfounded, also bent over double, her hands on her knees to support her as Arthur rubbed her back. Shacklebolt was shifting from foot to foot, as if testing his balance, and Harry looked as though he'd just been run through with something sharp.

"I think so," Minerva answered, refusing to get up from the floor.

:: :: ::

"I'm sorry," The Grey Lady was saying shame faced to the gathered living who had found perches for themselves in the Head's office. Hermione leaning against Draco on a desk, as Ron threw her confused and scandalised glances when he thought she wasn't looking. Platters of sandwiches and lunchmeats were hovering between them; their faces were drawn and exhausted. It was as if the very casting of the spell had sucked the life out of them all, and the idea of slinking up to her secret tower to fall asleep in her bed was hypnotising.

"I should have explained everything," the ghost was continuing, as Molly looked fit to burst, and Shacklebolt rather irritated.

"How about everything is explained to us properly from the very beginning!?" Molly demanded, as Arthur began to rub her shoulders; his own expression that of sheer tiredness.

"That would be best Helena," Albus put in, as the Grey Lady looked scandalised; and Hermione felt confused. Had she been wrong before? She'd obviously missed…something.

The Grey Lady sighed, and nodded, looking at the food longingly, as if she needed something to wet her throat before beginning.

"I didn't lie to you before. The school was founded on old, ancient magic as part of an agreement with the beings that already resided here. Only; what that magic required was a way to control it, to make it stronger, and…to bind it to how my mother and her friends wanted it. Times were…very very different then." She began warily, as everyone in the room had inched forward gently, listening intently. "The school wasn't just a sort of sanctuary; it was also a borderline portal from the non-magical world, to the magical world. The only real way to protect the area was to make it so that you really couldn't find it if you were a non-magical being; and that required something you'd find abhorrent today."

"A death." McGonagall said, rubbing her brow with distaste and irritation. The Grey Lady looked mortified for a moment, before hanging her head.

"Yes," she agreed, as startled looks were shared between the gathered.

"Death is something we still don't understand; but it is considered to be one thing, and that is a journey from one life to the next. If the afterlife exists that is. The act of dying was one of the biggest kinds of portals we know, the most powerful in fact. When my mother made the school; a muggle willingly gave his life for it." She sighed, as the looks of horror travelled around the group again, "He was a friend of my mothers, and they'd grown up together. When he learnt what she was – he stuck by her still; as others ousted witches and wizards from their homes. Eventually, he became sick and couldn't be cured. Learning that my mother needed a death, willingly given to finish her school; and protect magical beings residing in the area, he took his own life by the staircase. His sacrifice meant that they could cast the ward spells, giving as much of their emotion to it as they could, and the school…well. It's literally alive with magic." She explained as Hermione found too much of what she'd said made sense.

There were old types of magic, ancient and untrusted, lost to the times when things had become refined, powerful, or just not needed anymore. With fewer magical establishments needing real protection anymore, the way Hogwarts had been built had been lost to the ages. It explained why Hogwarts was the one building they knew of where rooms would just…appear, why the building of the new common room hadn't been difficult at all; how the rooms would change size given necessity…Hogwarts was a magical enigma that no one had been able to crack for centuries. Knowing that the walls were literally imbued with the blood of magical beings, and the freely offered emotions of those beings, including their loves and deaths…explained a lot. Even if it didn't.

"Your offerings of hair, blood, spit; and your love made you part of this school and replenished the old magicks. It's how the school knows what size to be, what to do at a certain time, and how it moves. It's why the staircases move to annoy you or to help you. It's…magical. There is an awareness to the building; as if it has a mind of its own, given to the building by magical creatures. When you spoke to the stone, you asked it for what you needed most; help, knowledge, and protection. You made sure the school only views humans as pure of heart, wanting nothing more to learn and thrive; even if some of the worst kind of evil has walked its halls. There is magic in love, and there is magic in death. Only; it is much easier to explain how you need love, than it is to ask for another death when you witnessed slaughter here not too long ago. I also didn't want you to think badly of my mother. She did what she had to, and this school is over millennia years old, and…it's still strong. No muggle has found it and no creature has been hunted in the lake or forest. I just…I knew the price could be viewed as being too high to pay." The Grey Lady sighed, shame written across all her silvery features as she shimmered and floated in front of them Molly's outraged expression glaring at her, as George looked taken aback, and Hermione humiliated.

Of course love wouldn't have solved all the problems, she wasn't wrong about there being an emotional layer to the school, but the school really was magical. She'd known that the first day she'd stepped in it. She'd known there were powers even the wizarding world didn't understand when she'd torn up the ministry of magic and watched the veil, whispered voices from the other side of it. In a strange way, the school was almost built on a sense of balance, love and death being two of the most unknown forces; both required to keep the school intact.

"None of that told us if the school is actually fixed!" Molly burst out, trembling, her whole features worn and filled with a grief Hermione couldn't understand.

"I can assure you; it most certainly is." Nearly Headless Nick announced, his head popping up from the floor where he'd been eavesdropping, and making the living jump. "Peeves is delighted."

McGonagall sighed.


	22. Head and Train

**Beta'd by Maddiechu**

"I can't believe it's the first." She moaned, organising her desk in the living space she shared with Draco. She'd only managed to read half of her course textbooks, and as far as she was concerned, she was far behind the course material. Pushing rolls of parchment into the cubbyholes Draco had installed, she heard him chuckle lowly.

"I'm sure we'll survive," he said, a dark muttering to his tone, the concern for the year ahead evident. The school had been fixed, and the colours were brighter, far more vivid than Hermione had ever seen it before. The weather of the enchanted ceiling seemed to be more realistic, and the air was fresher, sweeter. The stone walls were solid, and everything; everything shone. It was the rifts between the people that proved to be the harder fix. Harry and Draco had settled at their apology in Diagon Alley and seemed unwilling to go further, both plastering disgruntled and slightly repulsed expressions on to their faces when Hermione asked about it. Ginny would look at her with a knowing grin that began to infuriate her, so she'd drop the subject pretending she wouldn't bring it up again.

"We have no choice," she agreed placing ink bottles in a corner, and filling a vase with quills as Draco placed a framed picture of himself and his mother on one of his desks shelves.

"A couple of hours, then we need to be on the train." He reminded her, flicking his eyes to an enchanted clock he'd affixed to the wall between their desks. Hermione stacked her school books up on a shelf, eyeing the top one as if she were to take it for the journey.

"I ought to get changed, and then have breakfast. It seems a bit strange that I'm going to head to London to get the train, to come to the school, when I'm already at the school." She mused as Draco laughed.

"We are the Heads; we do need to be there." He reminded her, throwing a new blanket onto their window seat. It now officially looked as though they were completely unpacked and ready to live together; an agreement neither of them had decided on.

"I know, I know, but…" She sighed looking around at the room with a slight smile on her face, "It's just…it'll be the last time getting the train."

"Oh don't tell me you're all nostalgic and sad for it?" He mocked; grinning as he held the door to his room open; green furnishings beyond.

"Well, yeah. It has been a huge part of my life…I don't want it to be the last time." She explained throwing an annoyed look to Draco who shrugged.

"Life goes on." He vanished into his room and Hermione sighed once more, doing the same to get changed into her school robes. She didn't know what she was thinking by expecting some kind of sympathy from him. Of course she wouldn't get any. He could be just like Harry and Ron. She tugged on some jeans, tucking a pale pink blouse into the top of it, before pulling on her robes. Her head girl badge that had taken pride of place on her bedside table was now picked up lovingly, and pinned on to her robes. She quickly brushed and braided her hair, anything simple to keep it out of her face when she needed to guide the first years on to the train. A knock at the door made her jump, and she opened it to see Draco looking at her questioningly.

"If you take any longer in there it'll be the evening." He drawled, stepping back as he realised Hermione was ready to leave; his own uniform neat and pressed, a suit on underneath as usual and his Head Boy badge pride of place on his chest. He'd combed his hair so it seemed even smoother than usual, and gave Hermione a smirk as he noted her eyes appraise him.

"Oh don't be dramatic, let's get breakfast and apparate out of here." She said briskly, heading towards their stairs as Draco caught her arm, his expression suddenly serious.

"Hermione, promise me something." He almost demanded, his silver eyes narrowing a little as if he were hoping to intimidate her into agreement.

"…maybe…" She breathed warily, catching his gaze and finding herself wondering what he wanted to say.

"This room. It's ours. No one else comes up here. No one. Our…secret." He growled, as Hermione gasped, his expression was fierce, and borderline threatening; the lethal beauty his features almost enchanting as he looked at her.

"You don't want me to tell anyone about this room?" She asked him quietly, making sure she understood his request.

"No one, not even Ginny." He growled. Hermione gasped, caught off guard by his easy use of her best friend's name.

"Ok, I promise." She conceded, and he let her go, relief dripping into his features. The lethal beauty slinking away and becoming softened; he looked approachable.

"Thank you. I just…I think I'll need a space for just me to relax and get away from everyone. I know that here there will be no need to be ready for unexpected visitors; and confined to my room…I couldn't do that." He explained and Hermione nodded slowly.

"Let's just get breakfast," Hermione said, heading towards the door.

:: :: ::

He should have realised that apparating to Kings Cross with a war-hero would cause the press to jump on them the moment they'd arrived. Hermione's decision to hole herself up at Hogwarts and The Weasel's "Kingdom" had created an unquenchable thirst in the press for Britain's favourite Muggle-born. Now she'd shown up three times with him; Draco Malfoy, without much explanation as to why. Considering she was returning to Hogwarts, and Potter's fiancé was returning; of course they'd be here.

The flashbulbs seemed to be more blinding than ever, and Hermione had quickly grabbed hold of his arm, it was if she needed his support or something; dragging him over to Potter and Ginny. The Weasley's had created a sort of barrier from the photographers with their sheer numbers, and with a sinking dread, he realised that this was the first time he'd been around the entire Weasley family in public; apparently willingly. He swallowed.

It would be in the papers tomorrow, or even tonight if he was unlucky enough to have the editor deem the group heading to Hogwarts worthy for an extra special edition, which anything regarding the Golden Trio most certainly did.

He'd been living in a special court ordered world; McGonagall's protection from the press had been excellent, he may have chided Hermione and Potter in Madam Malkin's for not being used to the invasions, but he wasn't either. Being kept out of the drama at Hogwarts, instead of Diagon Alley and his home had kept him ignorant. He'd enjoyed being around Hermione, and had thought very little of what the rest of his house would think; the proud, arrogant and cunning Slytherins. The subject he and Hermione had fought about, the blood purity ideals, were still strong back bones in many of their lives, and his almost complete turnabout would not sit well with many of them.

With a jolt as the flashbulbs continued to go off, and his arm found its way around Hermione's waist unthinking; despite him never having done it before, guiding her forward. Even though she was leading him…he found he didn't care.

He didn't care anymore.

Everything had cost him too much.

The weekly letters from his mother told him that his father hadn't died yet. He was still just an empty case of a man; destitute and rotting within a prison, a victim of an old order within the Ministry, and his own ideals. He had lost two people he'd grown up with. Crabbe had incinerated himself in the Room of Requirement, and Goyle had been sentenced to ten years in Azkaban for what was described as his 'gleeful enjoyment and involvement', both in the war, and his time spent at Hogwarts. His family name was in the mud, trodden on and dragged through a hedge.

Everything he'd ever known was in tatters. He'd deal with the spiteful words from his housemates. He'd deal with the slanderous press articles. He'd deal with the harsh realities from the Weasley's.

He'd deal with it all.

He'd show them all in time.

The smell of Hermione, vanilla and so soothing calmed every worry he'd ever had. The red haired family had finally spied Hermione and were attempting to wave her over inconspicuously as to not let the photographers realise that they'd spotted her, thus drawing less attention. Their positions were protective of Potter, their daughter, and the Weasel, all of whom looked irritated. The waves weren't meant for him, and he began to let his grip on her small, but womanly waist go. Her hand instantly shot to his instead, her fingers slipping between his with a tight grip. The throng of people waving each other off, hugging their children, and running to meet one another meant that they had to remain close, their clasped hands thankfully hidden behind her bag.

Even if he cared for Hermione more than he wanted to admit, the press having actual evidence to show he'd corrupted the Muggle-born princess of Gryffindor was too much to bear at the moment, even if he couldn't quite understand why she wasn't pushing him off her. Why she had openly clasped his hand.

Did she…did she like him too?

"Hermione!" The Weasel was saying to her, a mixture of relief and irritation as the outburst of his name caused a few holding cameras to suddenly swing towards them; blinding them all with their flashes. "I was going to say good to see you, but now I'm blinded, so what's the point." He said drolly, and Draco noted he sounded healthier somehow, not so…angry and frustrated. His sight began to slowly regain, and he cast a quick look over the man who'd almost smashed his skull into the floor; noting the tightness that had been around his lips and eyes had begun to loosen, the permanent laugh he'd always managed to hold making a small return. Hermione had evidently noticed the same.

"Well, you…you look…good Ron, happier." She noted and jealousy spread its green wings within his chest, he turned to look at Potter instead who was deep in conversation with Ginny. His hand was on her cheek, their eyes only for each other as they whispered sweet nothings to each other; only he was promising her a letter every week, even if it was only a sentence due to his busy schedule, and as many Hogsmeade trips as he could manage. He hid a small smile, impressed with Potter's dedication to the youngest Weasley, the ring he'd placed upon her finger was nothing to be scoffed at, but they seemed to be taking it calmly and at their own pace. Much to the chagrin of many of the wizarding wedding establishments if the reports from _Witch Weekly_ were to be believed. He pulled his eyes away from them, instead watching the Weasley matriarch fuss and protect her brood, her own stature rapidly shrinking each time he saw her. She looked as if she was suffering rapid weight loss, her cheeks gaunt, and her eyes hollow. Although her voice as loud and orderly as ever. The twin, that always seemed to be by himself these days for some reason was prancing about, attempting to distract the press from Harry and Ginny now in an emotional clinch, his laughter hollow, his eyes dead.

Their father, the one his own father had picked many a fight with was the only one who seemed to have registered him. His eyes were boring into him, an impassive but still somehow wary expression was on his features, his stance ready to draw his wand if necessary. But behind that steely, careful gaze was sympathy; it was as if he knew. Suddenly, another jolt of realisation swept over him, Arthur Weasley had been at his father's trial. He knew. He knew everything. He met the man's eyes, and felt as if he were to drown in the blue lakes of sympathy the man seemed to call eyes. He dipped his head low, respectful; thankful, and surprise registered across his face, his lips drawn together as if he were to say something.

Hermione had let go of his hand to speak to Potter better, and he found himself walking towards the patriarch.

"Listen son," Mr Weasley said lowly to him instantly, the pair of them doing their very best to act as if they weren't speaking to one another. "I know what you and your family think of me and my family; but what I said to your father all those years ago is still true. We have very different ideas of what disgraces the name of a wizard. Some advice from one pureblood to another; even if you do consider me blood traitorous, I'd think long and hard about disgrace. You are still young." The words held no hint of warning, no threat, but plain advice. He looked to the man whom his family had made so detested by the world he belonged to, and blinked slowly, keeping his schooled expression calm instead of betraying the sobbing he wished he could unleash.

"I am not my father, sir." He said respectfully, and Mr Weasley watched him carefully, searching, as if looking for that hint of mocking Hermione had done so long ago now; how Ginny did still, how Potter had. He found none, and dipped his head not with respect, but with understanding.

"Draco," Hermione was saying, as Potter and Weasel's heads snapped round to look at her, their eyes wide with shock as Ginny seemed to grin so knowingly he could have smacked her.

"Hermione," He replied, enjoying the now gobsmacked expressions of the other two members of the Golden Trio.

"It's ten thirty, we need to be gathering the remaining muggle-borns from outside the platform and guiding them on to the train. I'll meet you in the Head's compartment after, so I'll see you soon." She told him business like as usual; as she embraced Potter tightly, turning to hug the Weasel. He grunted, turning away, not wanting to see her wrapped around a man who didn't deserve her. She said she'd see Ginny and Luna later, and bustled away; heading towards the platforms entrance.

:: :: ::

The train was pulling out of the station, he'd watched Hermione shepherd confused muggle-borns through the portal with such efficiency; he'd been in a slight awe. She was a much better one for that particular task, what with being a muggle-born herself; she knew who to look for and how to approach them. He'd found it was much easier making sure everyone was on the train on the other side. A couple of prefects had challenged him, before falling into astonished silence when he placed his finger on his chest, showing the Head Boy badge off with a simple glare. Instead, they'd gone back to making sure everyone and their belongings were on the train, throwing him dirty or wary looks.

Surprisingly, Ginny had backed him up, casually smacking a Hufflepuff prefect about the head "accidentally" with her broom as she got on to the train, apologising in an over the top manner as she managed to tell the prefect off for not listening to the Head Boy. He'd nodded at her thankfully, finding it hadn't been hard to accept help from her, even if it had been unasked for, and he'd almost solved the problem.

He'd finally managed to get to the Head's compartment, throwing his feet up on the chair and relaxing just as the train began to pull away, the Weasley's and Potter waving enthusiastically. He watched them, easy to spot with their bright hues, with a thoughtful expression. It was right, he could say what he wanted about the Weasley's, but they always seemed…happy.

The door slid open and Hermione slipped in, looking pleased with herself, her braid messy where she'd been turning her head so much and strands had been tugged loose, her cheeks pink.

"Busy?" He asked her as she threw herself down on a seat, a quick unamused glance at his shoes on the chair.

"You could say that, have any trouble?" She asked resting her head on the chairs back, and Draco found himself wishing she would lean up against him again, the way she had the day the unicorn had passed.

"No, not really," he said smoothly, as she smiled. He looked to the middle of the table, spotting a Daily Prophet with pictures of them on it. He grinned, checking the date. It was yesterdays, and he picked it up; opening it with every intention to read it as Hermione gasped.

"Oh no," she said horrified, seeing the headline.

"I knew they'd do this," he laughed, reading the headline between pictures of their trip to Diagon Alley. "Oh look at this one!" He exclaimed, pressing the paper down flat on his legs and pointing to a picture of Hermione and Ginny who were looking affectionately over at Harry as he said something to them; Draco standing by Hermione's side, looking far more interested in the wares in a shop window. The tag line read 'Malfoy possessive of Granger?'. He snorted with laughter as Hermione blushed the rose flush making her look as though she were a true English rose, one that had escaped from the garden; while his own insides squirmed with the ever rising truth to the words.

"What are we?" She breathed suddenly, pouring over the pictures of their outing and before, the small article detailing the predicted romance between them, and detailing the proof. "I mean, are we…are we friends?" She asked a little surer as he stared at her horrified all of a sudden.

He contemplated her words, rolling them about in his head trying to figure out where they came from, she was tracing her fingers over the captured images of herself; many of them had him close by her, standing in the back ground or beside her.

"…no, I don't think we're friends." He said eventually, calmly and sadly, they'd most certainly had a 'do over' to clear the air, but he couldn't say he wanted to be friends with her.

He wanted more.

Her look of sheer disappointment crushed him, his insides squirming for the second time that day, giving him a stomach ache.

"But I'd like to be." He finished slowly, smirking at her, as she blushed again.

:: :: ::

"Why are you Head Boy?" A Ravenclaw he hadn't bothered to learn the name of in previous years, challenging him, his arms crossed across his weedy body; brown eyes sharp and accusing.

"Because I beat McGonagall into a bloody mess, demanding that she make me Head Boy," he replied sarcastically, attempting to not roll his eyes and face the music like he'd expected to happen.

"No way," a younger Gryffindor whispered, looking to a Hufflepuff with wide eyes as a sixth year Slytherin looked delighted. He felt a little sick catching the expression ,as the Ravenclaw looked furious.

"You should be in Azkaban-" he began.

"But I'm not." He interrupted, his voice cool and collected, the admiring gaze of Hermione visible from the corner of his eyes. "I think everyone here knows I had a trial. Are you saying the judge was wrong? Even though they looked through all the evidence. You know Potter himself spoke in my defence. You saying he's wrong?" He challenged, as the Ravenclaw boy looked like he was fit to explode, the conflict rife in his expression.

"No," he sighed, still furious, "But I am saying you're a fucking scumbag. I won't listen to you, but I'll listen to her." He seethed, gesturing towards Hermione who looked instantly livid.

"Then I'll have your prefect status revoked immediately." Hermione said calmly as the Ravenclaw paled.

"What?" He exclaimed, flabbergasted, "You'd do that?"

"Of course," Hermione shrugged, "Why wouldn't I? You've just admitted you're not interested in being part of a working prefect team; you won't listen to the Head Boy. It doesn't matter if you think he's a 'fucking scumbag' I'm pretty sure you're not alone in that opinion, but what matters is that you're willing to work with 'fucking scumbags' to set a good example for the school. Need I remind you that we've just had a war?" She said smoothly as Draco contorted his face into a mixture of displeasure of his description, and amusement at the way Hermione was so cleanly causing the Ravenclaw pain.

"Yeah, we've just had a war because of the Slytherins." The Ravenclaw shot back at Hermione, clearly pleased with his retort. Hermione's eyes bulged and she began to look outraged, mingled with torment. It was as though she'd just been slapped roughly in the face, and an enormous task had been dropped on her shoulders.

"You think a bunch of kids started a war?" She asked incredulously, as the Ravenclaws' brown eyes clouded over murderously. "I'm going to make it clear to you all right now; I don't care if you don't like Malfoy. I don't care. I don't care if you don't like me. What I expect from each of you, is the behaviour that earned you the prefect badge you're wearing. You didn't get that from bullying other members of the school. I get that we had a war, I also just happened to have spent a year helping _the Harry Potter_ kill Voldemort, but I am sure as Merlin not going to spend this next year picking on the Slytherins because of it. Get past your differences, grow up, move on. Behave like a fucking prefect. I'm going to give you this chance right now; if you don't think you can handle being a prefect this year, hand in your badge now. Or, if I get a bad report about you; you can bet your arse I'm going to get that badge taken off you."

The Slytherins stared at her; the three with their badges on their chests had matching expressions. Their eyes were wide, their jaws slightly parted, astonishment all over them. The Hufflepuffs shifted about, looking at one another awkwardly while the Gryffindors bristled and threw Hermione curious expressions. The Ravenclaws seemed to accept what she was saying; looks of grudging respect were given to her, as the brown eyed claw scowled furiously; unwilling to pass up his badge.

"To back her up," He drawled, sensing that now would be the time to say something, "McGonagall gave me this position knowing what would happen should I fuck it up. If you can't figure it out, then you're going to have to explain to me how you made it this far in life. I won't cause trouble for you if you don't cause trouble for me. It should be simple." The Hufflepuffs were looking at him with curious expressions on each their faces, as if something was slowly pulling itself together in their minds. The Slytherins looked at him with pride whilst the Gryffindors held incredulous expressions. Once more, the Ravenclaws were split.

"Let's move on," Hermione said with a sigh, "You have a week to get your timetable to us, and any plans to join your house Quidditch team. We will then draw up a rota that should mean you can all do your patrols in time without it clashing with anything else. We will have a meeting next week to see if anything needs to be shuffled with and addressed."

"Oh, and expect the work load to go up this year, McGonagall has been hinting at events," he added, as Hermione glanced at him with surprise.

"Ok, you two Ravenclaws," Hermione stepped in again, pointing to the brown eyed tormentor, and a blonde haired girl who was looking at him as if she were on the verge of a flirtatious giggle, "You patrol next, then go to Gryffindor, then Slytherin, and then Hufflepuff. One length of the train each, it should take you about equal time, Draco and I will go in pairs from our own houses. Fair?" She asked, as Astoria threw him a hopeful glance at the mention of being in house pairs. He nodded to her with a simple dip of his head that he'd so often given her aloof beauty of a sister. She grinned, delighted, and a desire for Hermione to be the one wearing that grin instead shot through him.

Disgruntled nods shot through the gathered group as they realised they'd have to actually begin working as prefects as the first Ravenclaw pair left. He looked to Hermione, smiling as he noted her exhausted expression, and smirked with a wish for the year to be easier than it was clearly going to be.


	23. Drink and Taste

**Beta'd by Maddiechu**

The sorting had gone on half an hour longer than it usually did due to the massive amount of new students for first year. The first year was looking bloated, so many children swelling the ranks of the tables, and Hermione only then registered just how much invisible damage had been done to last year's education. Pure-blooded children who had come to Hogwarts when it was made compulsory had to repeat their first year, joining all the muggle-borns whom McGonagall and Flitwick had managed to save, along with all of those who really were starting their first year. First year was massive in comparison to the tiny seventh year Hermione technically belonged to, despite it being her eighth year at the school. She looked about carefully, as a new Ravenclaw was sorted and noted that all the other years were bloated. She'd never seen the hall look so large before, the tables so long, and the ceiling so…bright. Hogwarts had adapted. The final student was sorted to the elation of Hufflepuff, and Hermione sighed with relief, knowing that food would come very soon.

"Oh thank goodness, I'm truly getting starving," Parvarti muttered to her left as Ginny grumbled to her right. McGonagall had stood up, and was preparing herself for the usual speech.

"Welcome to Hogwarts; all of you. You who have been here before and those of you who haven't. Let it be known that the previous year was an anomaly, and the damage done by the actions of those who championed it will take a long time to restore. It is with this note that I warn you; any kind of bullying will be dealt with much harsher than previous years. It will not be tolerated. House unity is now more important than ever. There shall be some events over the year in order to encourage this. Now, I would like to introduce our new staff members. Professor John Dawlish for Defence Against the Dark Arts, and Professor Austin Miller for Transfiguration; I am sure you will make them both welcome. I would also like to remind you that the 'forbidden forest' is as its name suggests, forbidden. Now please, eat!" She announced with a flourish of her wrists and the piles upon piles of food appeared in front of them to the collective elated sigh of the hall.

Ginny began to take a note out of her siblings book, and heaps of food found its way onto her plate; rather neater than Ron had ever managed it. Parvarti was picking at a bowl of mashed potato as Hermione picked out some spaghetti that Hogwarts managed to do so well as she looked up, and caught sight of Draco.

The Slytherin table seemed to be subdued, quieter, even though the chat was still happening; the table was also rather empty. Its swollen first year seemed to be the majority of its numbers; where as other years seemed to be patchy. Its seventh year was also the biggest of all the houses. Draco was sandwiched between Blaise Zabini, the Italian who had fled with his mother when the war broke out; preferring to stay neutral. To his other side was a girl Hermione recognised as Daphne Greengrass, a blonde whose hair was more like spun gold, with minute flawless features and pale green eyes that resembled grassy fields more than eyes. Draco was nodding along to the conversation, as Daphne's lips moved; obviously being the one he was listening to, her blonde hair falling over her shoulders in gentle waves. Strangely, Hermione began to feel threatened as Ginny nudged her.

"Hermione? Are you able to come to the Gryffindor common room at least once a week so I get to see you? I'm not sure if I'm allowed in the eighth year one." She asked her as Hermione smiled.

"Yes, you are, and I can. The eighth year one is on the sixth floor, it's the statue of a witch with a phoenix, and the password is 'cinema', so just come whenever you want." She told the redhead as Parvarti began to join in the conversation amicably.

"How do you think this year will go?"

"Strangely," Hermione admitted thinking of the fight she'd had with the Prefects on the train, and the events McGonagall had said were to happen throughout the year.

"Better than last year at least," Parvarti agreed looking to the teachers table where McGonagall seemed to look slightly uncomfortable in Dumbledore's old throne. The lack of the potions professor who owned a special hatred for anyone who wasn't a Slytherin was oddly unsettling. Slughorn returning for another year was however welcomed.

"How do you think the new teachers are going to be?"

"Dawlish was an auror wasn't he?" Ginny asked, looking up at the man.

"Yeah, he was; that should be good for us don't you think?"

"At least it's not Snape." Parvarti said, as both Hermione and Ginny fell silent.

"So who's back at least for our year?" Hermione asked changing the subject, "I know Malfoy is, with Parkinson. Looks like Daphne Greengrass and Blaise Zabini are too if that is anything to go by," she began nodding her head to the Slytherin table where Draco had been staring at her. She caught his eye, and smiled slightly, feeling warmed at his returned one.

"Add Nott to that too," Parvarti sighed, "But I know Ravenclaw has Michael Corner back as well as my sister and that's it. Hufflepuff has both Ernie and Hannah, and well, we Gryffindors are the most numerous after Slytherin. We have both Dean and Seamus as well as ourselves." Parvarti finished as Hermione raised her brows with surprise.

"I can't believe we have so few!"

"I can, I mean, Neville is doing a year of intensive Herbology training before coming to study under Professor Sprout to take over her job, so that's why he isn't coming back. He's getting his N.E.W.T in Herbology only, and then I think another qualification to do with Herbology. You know about Harry and Ron, because well; you're you. So that's…all of us Gryffindors accounted for." Parvarti said, Lavender's unspoken name hanging between them as Parvarti swallowed. "Ravenclaw have so few returning because so many of them were offered jobs at Gringotts after the break in; did you know they had a dragon down there?" Parvarti said to Hermione pulling herself back together again as best she could, not noticing Hermione's guilty expression.

"I didn't," She lied smoothly, as she looked over to Draco again, seeing him speaking to Daphne and feeling jealous.

:: :: ::

The eighth years were perched on different bits of furniture, grouped together in their houses as Draco leant against the fireplace away from the other Slytherins with a disgruntled expression. Tentative, angry and wary looks were being thrown between the different house groups, with the Slytherins on the receiving end of most of the animosity. There was no talk in the beautifully decorated room; and Hermione marvelled at how the warmth of the room could suddenly host such a cold atmosphere. No one was making any move to go to each other, to talk to someone from another house, despite Hanna and Padma looking as if they'd very much like a catch up chat with Parvarti, and Michael and Ernie doing the same. A loud, over exaggerated sigh came from one of the Gryffindor boys as Hermione attempted to keep her eyes away from Draco, wanting more than anything to join him.

"Right, this is a bit too tense for my liking, everyone sit around the table, and I'll be right back." Seamus announced vanishing into the boys' side as anxious looks were shared and Hannah strode to the table confidently, Parvarti shrugging and dragging her nervous looking twin after her. Dean settled himself next to Parvarti, as Michael joined him; looking at the Slytherins with a curious gaze.

Pansy looked livid, her arms crossed over her chest, a scowl in place. Hermione pulled a chair out next to Hannah, and sat next to it, Draco joining her as Blaise and Theodore joined him, Daphne throwing a glance to Pansy as she sat next to Theodore.

Seamus returned, looking at them all awkwardly looking at one another around the table and laughed; two bottles of whiskey in his hands. Ernie looked astounded as he spotted it, taking a seat next to Daphne as if to bridge the gap between the Slytherins and the other houses, as Seamus took the last seat next to him.

"We're going to have to live here together for a year," Seamus was saying, slamming a bottle down in the middle of the table, and withdrawing shot glasses from his pocket, "Like fuck am I living in a war zone again, so we're going to get drunk, and we're going to make friends." He declared, pushing a shot glass across the table to each of them. Hermione caught hers with a raised eyebrow as Ernie began spluttering.

"But, we're at school! We can't…"

"Yes we can Ernie," Hermione found herself saying, even though she'd never been drunk in her life and didn't fancy the idea of starting it. Ernie gaped at her as Draco laughed. Given the tense atmosphere in the common room she'd rather anything else, and if getting drunk meant that they'd be civil to each other for the rest of the year, she'd get drunk.

"I thought you'd be against this!" He exclaimed as Parvarti loosed a snort.

"Why do people have such a goody two shoes image of you Hermione?" She asked her, "It's like they forget you were best friends with Harry and Ron!" Ernie continued to gape at Hermione as Seamus was now pouring shots, waiting for them all to be settled. Theodore sniffed his distrusting and Seamus rolled his eyes.

"I've not poisoned it you jackass, I wanted to keep this for a later date, but if we're going to sit and scowl at each other and not talk; I'm going to have to drink it now." He said disparagingly as Hannah began to chuckle quietly in her seat. Theodore put the shot back down with a scowl, and Seamus finished pouring Dean's shot. "Right, we're going to start this with a simple game so everyone gets at least three shots of this down them, then we're going to play something different." He continued.

"I'm not playing this." Pansy sniffed as Seamus got ready to explain the rules.

"Then I'll hex you," Draco said smoothly, barely looking at her, his gaze far more interested on the bottle of alcohol he'd be consuming.

"No you won't!" Pansy said shrilly as Draco sneered at her.

"I would, now shut up and join in." He snarled as the other Slytherins looked to Draco with surprise, Daphne's perfect lips parted thoughtfully as she gazed at him.

"Settled? Good, cos the game is called 'Never Have I Ever.' If you've never done something, you don't drink. If you've done it, you drink. So, first proposition: never have I ever attended Hogwarts." He said, slamming the shot back down his throat as he finished, pouring himself the next one as Hannah groaned, apparently familiar with the game as she and Dean both drank while everyone else looked at him questioningly. Seamus sighed, looking to them all disbelievingly.

"You idiots are all in Hogwarts, so you've attended it, meaning; you drink." He said to them as Hermione understood it all of a sudden. She raised her eyebrows and raised the glass to her lips, sniffing it tentatively before tipping it back down her throat. She coughed instantly, as the liquid was more fire than taste, and seemed to dry her mouth at once. Daphne and Parvarti were doing the same, as Ernie and Theodore both looked as if it were unpleasant, and Draco looked unruffled. The shot glasses were quickly re-filled and Seamus looked to Padma next to him for the next proposition. She seemed to catch on faster than Hermione, and raising her shot glass to her lips, she gave a devious smile.

"Let's make it interesting if we're going to do this; never have I ever fancied someone from my own house." She tipped the shot back, as Hermione drunk her next one slightly unwillingly thinking of her sixth year and Ron briefly, realising that everyone at the table had managed to drink once more; suspicious eyes being shared as the fire dried her mouth out once more. The drinks were filled up quickly; Seamus unscrewing the other bottles top and placing it in the middle of the table to make the refills faster, Hannah grabbing the bottle of Ogdons the moment it was placed down.

"Never have I ever…worried about a test." She said, seemingly wanting to make sure everyone drunk. Hermione rolled her eyes, watching everyone drink as she tipped her own drink back once more, filling her mouth with spit the moment she could, the fire warming her throat, and making her stomach burn. She noticed she wasn't feeling anything funny yet, and wondered briefly how many shots it would take for her to start acting like people did when drunk. Her shot glass was refilled as Dean gave a smile to match Padma's.

"I'm with Padma, I want to make this interesting," he began as Seamus shot him a grin, his eyes alight with laughter. "Never have I ever wanted to kiss someone at this table." He grinned shamelessly taking his shot as Draco took his, and Daphne followed, throwing looks at Blaise. Hermione tipped hers back, trying not to look at Draco, and fixed her eyes to the table as she swallowed. Hannah, Padma and Pansy also took their shots as Ernie retched a little at his. Dean loosed a laugh his eyes glittering joyfully as Seamus looked the same. "Now this year might not be uninteresting after all! Hermione! Who are you drinking for? Weasley isn't here!"

Hermione's jaw dropped as Pansy loosed a shriek.

"Weasley? Merlin Granger, you could have at least got your knickers wet for Potter. At least pretend you'd a little taste." She cackled as Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Not interested in Ron, maybe a long time ago, but nope." She said to Dean, forgetting to answer the rest of his question as Dean grinned wider. Draco seemed to be looking at Pansy with a look of distaste, and Blaise was looking at him with a curious sparkle to his dark eyes. Her head began to swim a little, and at four shots she blinked, realising that Padma and Parvarti's cheeks were flushed, Hannah was the proud owner of a rather giggly smile, Ernie was attempting to look as though his head wasn't fuzzy, and Daphne looked glassy and even more beautiful.

Seamus laughed, looking at everyone at the table, and screwed a cap on a bottle.

"I think the alcohol is hitting us, so new game time, spin the bottle. If the cap lands on you, you get to do the truth or dare to whoever is at the other side of it, then when we're nice and ready to make it interesting, we'll do plain old spin the bottle. You drink when it lands on you." Hannah giggled delightedly, and Dean clapped his hands together, looking to Padma with devious expressions. Ernie looked excited to Hermione's surprise, and Draco pressed his leg up against hers, causing her to gasp.

"Not too pleased with the game Hermione?" Seamus asked her as he was poised to spin the bottle, and she shook her head, giving Draco's leg a little gentle pressure in return; thankful that the rising blush could easily be blamed on the alcohol. Seamus smiled, and with a deft flick of his wrist, the bottle was unleashed on the now tipsy group. They all leant forward slightly, their breaths held as they watched it spin. It seemed to last forever, until eventually it slowed, and Hannah seemed to be its first victim as the cap settled on Daphne.

The Slytherin looked shocked, but a lazy, careful smile split over her golden features and she smiled at Hannah with a cheeky hint to it.

"I dare you Hannah, to lick Ernies cheek." She said, as Seamus and Dean roared with laughter. Pansy looked flat out disgusted as Draco raised an amused brow at his fellow housemate. Parvarti and Padma both looked as if it was the last thing they were suspecting as Ernie looked fit to protest. Before he could do anything, Hannah was out of her seat, his head in her hands, and with a deft motion; dragged her tongue from his jaw to just below his eye as Padma laughed loudly at the look of sheer disgust on Pansy's face, almost mirrored by Ernie's stunned one. Hannah slipped back into her seat, spinning the bottle before everyone had registered what had happened. The next spin landed on Michael, who looked to Blaise with a wary expression, met by the Slytherins challenging smirk. The expression bolstered the Ravenclaw, who suddenly grinned.

"Blaise, I dare you to do the next five spins of spin the bottle in your underwear only." Daphne suddenly looked extremely interested, as Blaise seemed bored.

"That's all you've got Corner?" He asked, tugging his robes off as the girls began to watch his movements surreptitiously, the men in the room suddenly watching the women carefully, Michael shrugged, spinning the bottle again, as Blaises's came off layer by layer and Daphne's cheeks became pinker and pinker.

"Might as well see what's ok and what isn't." Michael said as Seamus snorted.

"Forfeits for anyone who won't do their dare." He explained, as if it was non-negotiable and Dean nodded vigorously, as Parvarti was looking to him, with a thoughtful, as equally dreamy expression on her face. The bottle stopped spinning again, and Seamus laughed once more, looking at Theodore with an expression that matched Blaises one of challenge.

"Give us your best Nott," he said, rubbing his hands together with excitement. Nott seemed to look about the table, wondering who he could pick on when his eyes settled on Parvarti.

"I'm going one further. Strip completely naked, and then sit on Parvarti's lap for three rounds." He ordered as Parvarti spluttered with shock, and Theodore smiled at her, sinking back his shot as if it didn't bother him. Draco began to laugh as Hermione looked astonished, wondering where on earth the game would go, and why her year group was so obsessed with nudity. Seamus was already in his boxers, his hand between his legs and tugging his boxers down as Parvarti covered her face and squealed, laughter coming from behind her hands. Her twin patting her shoulder as she laughed. Hannah seemed to find the situation funny too, while Pansy continued to look revolted. Seamus made a show of walking over to Parvarti, his hips swinging from side to side as he cupped himself, his free hand swinging. He gently placed himself onto her lap, her giggles giving her the hiccoughs, crossing his legs openly as Padma shrieked with laughter.

"Close your legs at once!" She demanded, covering her eyes and laughing helplessly. Seamus huffed jokingly as Ernie looked at him gobsmacked once more, and pulled his legs together, his hand once more going between his legs.

The bottle was spun once more, and Ernie managed to get his revenge on Hannah, ordering daring Michael to lick her from elbow to cheek to her squeals of disgust and laughter. Pansy had scowled when the bottle had landed on her, Padma daring her to give Dean a lap dance had been met with a furious hiss and as such, Seamus had promptly transfigured her nose into a tap. She'd shrieked, reaching for her wand only to find Daphne slapping it out of her hand and Draco awarding five points to Seamus for excellent wand work, and she'd nursed her sorrows in whiskey as the table had roared with shocked laughter at Draco's awarding of house points. Seamus climbed off Parvarti's lap, as Blaise seemed to forget he could put his clothes on again, and Seamus only seemed to pull his boxers on. Sitting back in his seat as the bottle landed on Hermione, the cap on Dean. He grinned at her, clearly very tipsy; and Hermione felt an over powering sense of dread as she took her shot.

"Hermione," He said carefully, as Padma and Daphne began to giggle for no apparent reason. "Blaise," he followed up with, and the Slytherin jolted to attention, his curiosity peaked. "Kiss." Dean ordered. Daphne seemed to pale slightly, as Hermione gasped; Draco stiffening by her side as Blaise laughed. Seamus roared with laughter as Pansy looked sorry for her house mate.

"I was wondering when it would come to this!" Hannah said excitedly as Blaise got out of his chair, and Hermione almost stopped breathing.

He strode over to her, an inebriated grin on his face, and Hermione inwardly sighed, thinking she might as well play sportswoman. She got out of her chair shakily, Draco looking at her with an expression she couldn't quite place as she went to meet Blaise.

"Granger," he said in what he hoped to be a suave manner.

"Zabini," She replied, as he stepped closer; one of his hands going to the back of her neck to pull her closer. He tipped his head downwards, and she closed her eyes.

His kiss was wet and sloppy. Catcalls threw up around the table as a couple of them clapped amid their laughter. His tongue was somehow cold despite it living in his mouth, and his smell was all wrong; it wasn't earthy and fresh, but musky and maybe stale. His lips moved against hers hungrily, and she tried not to lean away with repulsion, returning his kiss the best she could. He released her, and she smiled at him in what she hoped was a friendly way, a stray giggle escaping her lips, inwardly hoping she'd never have to re-live the experience.

She turned back, planning to head into her seat, only to catch Draco's eyes.

His jealous, thunderous eyes.

She blinked. Trying to smother the elation she felt at reading his impassive features as jealous and smiled at him, biting her lip. Yes, she was most definitely feeling the alcohol.

:: :: ::

He was pacing in their room, fast and furious, his hands in the air and then thrust downwards.

"Draco?" She asked carefully, leaning against the door she'd come in from the one that lead to the rest of the common room, stilling her dizzy head.

His eyes snapped up to look at her, and he stood stock still, his wintery visage one of a blizzard. His silvery eyes were tormented, his pale pink lips parted slightly. The sharpness of his jaw line jutted out petulantly. His platinum locks falling over his brow. Then he was striding towards her, a sure expression on his face.

He grabbed her arm, pulling her away from the door and into him. His fresh earthy smell overwhelmed her immediately, and she looked up at him, parting her lips in surprise. His arm wound about her waist, pulling her close to him, pressing her body right up against his chest, and her arms rested upon his shoulders. Her breathing began to quicken as she felt the hard lines of his body against hers, and she wound her fingers into his clothing once more, holding onto him as he held her so close she began to tip slightly backwards. His other hand settled between her shoulder blades, steadying her and he looked down at her, a blazing look on his face.

"Hermione," He said gruffly, and Hermione's breath caught fully.

He tipped his head down, resting his forehead against hers, the tip of his nose pressing against hers. His eyes seemed brighter, more alive than she'd ever seen them before; and she parted her lips further, as Draco seemed to tilt carefully to the side, his eyes closing.

And Hermione discovered bliss.

Where Blaise had been ravenous and sloppy; Draco was controlled and practised. The bitter fire like tang of Ogdon's clung to the sweet softness of his lips, the movement of them gentle, like the lazy waves to the shore. The smell of him, earthy and fresh pulled her under the surface, a will to be lost to him forever. He was the good things in life; the first leaves to fall in autumn. The sun on a clear summer's day. The first flowers of spring. The untouched snow of a winter's morning. His kiss was slow, and searching, and the sheer definition of divinity. Then over.

He released her, his eyes ablaze, and fled to his room.


	24. Plan and Plan

**Beta'd by Maddiechu**

The school seemed to burble like a new-born baby, as Draco and Hermione walked in an amicable silence towards the gryphon that heralded the entrance to the Head's office. Excited chatter followed them, their arms knocking together once in a while as they strode down the halls, giggles and shrieks echoing as the portraits pointed and whispered amongst themselves. Life had most definitely returned to Hogwarts.

The announcement that Draco had become the Head Boy of Hogwarts had been met with a deafening silence; the shock had clawed its way into the very core of the school, the air sucked out in an instant. Horrified, livid and terrified glances were shared between the students that had endured his tyranny the years before. Confused and betrayed expressions hung on the faces of the ones he'd ripped into the most; as if he were the vulture, and they were simply the liver he was due to collect each day. Hermione had looked to him the moment he had been announced; to her shock praying for him to not smirk, sneer, or look like he was to enjoy eviscerating those who dared to challenge him. When the eyes of the room had settled on his winter features, sharp and pointed like icicles – he'd smiled a slight upturn of his lips that had held no inch of malice. She'd sighed at his reaction; as relief poured on her. Ginny had nudged her, a warning expression on her summer touched features, and she realised she should be smiling and waving as the crowd seemed to be cheering for her. She'd been announced as Head Girl. The reaction of the school was if it were night and day.

Now, as they walked the halls together, just as the shock and acceptance of Malfoy as Head Boy had sunk in, the portraits tittered between themselves; hints of the tears that had been shed over it revealed.

"Did you see Lillian? Sobbed her heart out she did at him being Head Boy, apparently he levitated her into a toilet when she was in her second year."

"Robert had a fit."

"The Hufflepuff third year?"

"No, no, the Ravenclaw fifth year, he threw things all up and down the second floor corridor; screaming obscenities; all over the Malfoy boy."

"There he is! Do you think he'll be the worst Head Boy in Hogwarts history?"

They whispered; hissed, and muttered between themselves. Their painted eyes glimmering in the torch light; fingers pointing and mouths hidden as they chased them through portraits they didn't belong to. Draco walked with her, his back abnormally straight, his skin tinged grey once more. She longed to reach out, entwine her hand with his, but she couldn't.

They hadn't spoken since he'd kissed her.

The Head's office began to loom as a pair of Gryffindor third years turned the corner, and took one look at them approaching, swiftly turning on their heel as if they'd been struck by lightning and going back the way they'd come. A stab of pain struck through Hermione as she realised they'd been of her own house, and had chosen to avoid her coming, until Draco sighed beside her. With shame, she realised it was him they'd wanted to escape, not her. Not Hermione Granger the War-Heroine.

The Gryphon seemed to shift the moment they came into its view, as if it had been expecting them. It twirled about as McGonagall's withering features opposite to her iron like posture stepped forward; an expression of wariness upon her wrinkled face as they stepped forward.

"Excellent," she greeted, stepping to the side and gesturing to them with a sweep of her arm to step on to the staircase, "I was about to summon for you two." She admitted, as Hermione smothered the wave of embarrassment at possibly being late for her first meeting as Head Girl with the Head Mistress.

:: :: ::

"Events?" Hermione repeated dumbly, as if she said the word again; sense would be knocked into her and it would all be a wonderful dream she had just experienced.

"Yes; events, things to encourage house unity and to forge new friendships. The best way to do this is to hold events that everyone can relate to and experience." McGonagall replied, a matter of fact, as if Hermione weren't gaping at her with her eyes slightly glassy. Draco was picking the parchment McGonagall had just pushed forward to them each with a raised brow and twisted mouth; his expression unreadable.

"I refuse to have a Valentine's day event like the one we had with Lockhart here." He drawled, raising his wintery eyes to McGonagall with a look of disdain.

"As do I; I am sure you and your prefects can think of something that will be much more appropriate." McGonagall replied as Hermione picked her parchment up, scanning it with a look of mixed delight and horror.

"Oh! Fireworks night for the fifth of November!" She gasped, giggling with joy. "Muggle traditions at Hogwarts?"

"Best to attempt to fix all kinds of rifts, not just Hogwarts housing."

"I can organise this one! Definitely, I can talk to Hagrid; will we be allowed a bonfire? We have to have a bonfire. Getting sweets won't be any issue; I assume we'll have some left over from the Halloween event you've got written here. Oh and mulled wine time! Oh…no, it's a school…but we can definitely have mulled apple juice and cinnamon as we watch the fireworks!" Hermione's eyes were bright and alight with her own sort of fireworks, her cheeks flushed with excitement as she grinned at an astonished and confused Draco, and an amused looking McGonagall.

"Yes, you will be allowed a bonfire; I suggest talking to Hagrid as soon as you can about it."

"I'll write to George, he can donate some fireworks for us to use, and we can raise some cash from the students to buy more…" Hermione babbled, pulling a scroll of parchment out her bag, and wetting her quill in some ink as she began to use McGonagall's desk for her own purposes. McGonagall raised her eyebrows, impressed with the speed in which Hermione was already planning an event two months away. A letter to George in the process of being penned, her lips silently carving out more plans to the air in front of her.

"The staff shall organise the victory dance, but I suggest you delegate a different house an event to plan, the prefects of that House in charge. They must come to you to approve all plans, and anything you are not sure of, come see me." McGonagall was saying as Hermione signed her letter off with a beam.

"Give the Slytherins the Halloween event." Draco smiled with a devious glitter to his silver eyes, and McGonagall's face hardened instantly.

"If last year had never happened Mr Malfoy, I would have done so, but now giving the house of Slytherin an event based in terror would not be a good idea. I suggest the Hufflepuff house organise that particular event. They have never been one to shy away from some fun, and give the Slytherin house another event." McGonagall said sternly, and Draco greyed at her words, his hand clenching the fabric of his robes out of her sight. He swallowed, accepting and not challenging her in the slightest, the truth in her words stinging as they hit his ears. Hermione looked at him, blushing a little as she looked at the rest of the list. She'd pounced upon the fireworks event, and had already most of it sorted in her mind.

"I think the Slytherin's should have the secret santa event, give them a reputation of being giving and kind and fun." Hermione said quietly as Draco's knuckles whitened on his robes, his eyes glued to the parchment in front of him.

"Then the Ravenclaws should get the Easter Egg hunt, and the Gryffindors the Valentines event." He decided, as Hermione inwardly picked her battles, wishing the Gryffindors had the egg hunt instead of the Ravenclaws, knowing the eggs would most likely be stashed in difficult hiding places and found years later.

"Sounds like you have it all planned," McGonagall said, watching her two Head's nod to each other and themselves. "I'd get to calling a prefects meeting if I were you, and Hermione, plan the fireworks event fast. It will come sooner than you think with this year being N.E.W.T year." McGonagall gently reminded her as Draco stood up abruptly, his face impassive, the parchment being stowed away in his bag.

"I will," Hermione smiled, standing to leave with Draco as he looked to her expectantly.

"Good, best of luck the pair of you," McGonagall said, dismissing them with a fond smile, and an expectant glance at Draco.

Hermione and Draco left, stepping onto the moving staircase as it shuddered to life in the awkward way it did, and as the door to the office shut behind them, Draco cleared his throat.

"You're going to the dance with me." He told her, looking dead ahead and as if he hadn't just told her what she'd be doing with her time. She fought back a smile, and kept her eyes forward, mirroring his stance.

"Well it's not like I'm going to go with McLaggen." She joked, as Draco looked confused, his mouth parting to challenge her as she sighed. "I'm accepting your demand Draco, not challenging it."

He closed his mouth and smirked at her, his silvery eyes sparkling at her. The end of the stairs was coming closer, and he swiftly closed the gap between them; pressing his lips to her forehead.

"I'll see you in Potions, if not before then," he murmured, stepping back as the Gryphon began to spin with a crunching announcement of its plans to move.

"Yeah," Hermione breathed, suddenly at a loss to think. She blinked rapidly, willing sense into herself, as thoughts of the kiss they'd shared began to return to her. Her lips parting in anticipation, as if he'd kiss her again. She wanted to talk to him about it, see where they stood, ask him…ask him if he'd kiss her again. She turned to speak to him, as the Gryphon stopped moving, and he swept past her, heading towards the library with his cat like gait. She sighed, and headed towards the owlery at a fast pace, hoping she could meet Hagrid and put a note up on the common room notice board before Potions.

:: :: ::

"Let us…let us make things…interesting." Slughorn was saying, rubbing the palms of his hands together as he stared at the group he would be teaching, he'd gathered them up at the front of the classroom; banning them from taking a partner and a seat in an unexpected move. "You're an odd number, so we're going to have to have one three, so we'll have to shake things up anyway…it's not until next term you need to work solo…" Slughorn seemed to be talking to himself, his eyes roaming over the students absently, as he ignored the faint hisses and pops from the cauldrons at the front of the class, the heady aromas they were emitting making Hermione feel oddly light; as if there were simply no weight to her head, and her shoulders were pulling her down. The eighth years huddled together, as if for protection; Parvarti linking her arms with hers and Padma's the moment she'd heard Slughorn mention a group of three. She stepped slightly closer to Parvarti in a friendly way, remembering the letter the girl had sent her over the holidays, and the effort the pair of them had put in into making a genuine friendship.

"Yes, yes…I think…Miss Greengrass, with Mr…Thomas please." He finally announced, and the whole class jumped, looking to one another as if they would receive some sort of support for doing so. Daphne's shoulders slumped, and she stepped forward, heading towards the table at the front of the class Slughorn was pointing at, as Dean looked as though he was beside himself with luck.

"Mr Finnegan with…Miss Abbott, Miss..oh two Patil's, of course…Miss Padma with Mr Finnegan, Miss Parvarti with Mr Zabini." He began to list off, as students nodded to one another amicably, Parvarti giving Blaise a wary look as they went to their designated table. Slughorns' eyes somehow began to hold more weight to them than his incredible stomach, his lips pursing slightly as he pondered the make-up of his pairings. "I think we shall have…Miss Parkinson with…"

"Malfoy," she said, turning her pug nose up into the air as she looked at the rest of the group, only the remaining Slytherins safe from the wrath of her glare. Slughorn turned to look at her, his smile slightly lopsided and apologetic.

"I think Mr Corner." He said, as he raised his brows as if he'd realised he'd not paired up the two heads yet. A curious, almost interested flicker of emotion passed over his face as his gaze lingered on Hermione. Dread began to engulf her, and she battled attempting to not show it on her face. "I wonder…how well do our two very different heads work together…" he mused, seemingly unaware he was doing it aloud and Pansy gave a shriek of horror as Draco attempted to look as though he wasn't interested. Hermione bit her lip as Pansy began to wail, and both Seamus and Dean began to snigger loudly.

"You can't!" Pansy cried, pulling at her hair and resting her elbows on the wood of the desk in an overly dramatic way, so much so that Daphne deliberately turned to look in another direction to hide her sniggers; despite being behind Pansy's pug eyed gaze.

"He caaaaannn!" Draco wailed, imitating Pansy to a key unexpectedly. His long, elegant fingers were in his hair, his palms dragging his cheeks down so he looked as if he had jowls, his eyes rolling into the top of his head. His voice high pitched; mocking. Hermione gasped as the other houses fell quiet, only the Slytherin's roared with laughter. It was a strange turn of events, Draco mocking members of his own house; something he'd never done before. Judging by the reactions of the Slytherins, they were used to it, perhaps in a different way, without the spite and malice; but the other houses stared in wonder. Awed by him.

"Draco!" Pansy shrieked as if she were a toddler put in a time out, behaviour also not one often demonstrated to the other houses. The mirth in the room had begun to fizzle out, and a shocked observing blanket had settled over the play the Slytherins were putting on; watching the Slytherins unravel was oddly disconcerting. "You're supposed to be my partner!" Pansy continued, stamping her foot as Slughorn sighed and stepped forward.

"I suppose I was…a fool for expecting better behaviour of my house," He began, a glassy expression drifting over his features, making Hermione think he wasn't quite talking about the current situation. "Miss Parkinson, you will be with Mr Corner and Mr Nott, and ten points from Slytherin for your behaviour; you're an adult now, please behave like one. Miss Granger and Mr Malfoy, I expect team work from you two." He dismissed them, cutting the drama short with his blunt words, and waving them off to their tables.

Joy exploded within Hermione as she walked to the last remaining table, sliding her bag under the desk and sitting on the stool as she bent down to retrieve her book, parchment and writing equipment. Draco copied, looking disinterested as usual as Slughorn waddled his way behind the potions, their fumes still wafting over the room, a peachy smell now becoming evident. He clapped his hands together as the class continued to shuffle, settling themselves in for the two hours of potions, waiting for the silence that was expected.

"We shall be working on antidotes this lesson," He began pulling a small bottle from his robe pocket and showing it to the class. "Whoever does the best, shall win this little bottle of Felix Felicis! Or two, or possibly three, given we are in groups!" He corrected himself, pulling another little vial from his pocket with a cheeky glimmer in his eye. Hermione inwardly groaned, thinking of all the trouble that silly little bottle Harry had won had got her into, but with a begrudging amount of respect she admitted it had been an excellent motivator. Slughorn heaved himself around the table with the cauldrons on, and peered up at the now interested class once more, and Hermione leant forward in her seat a bit remembering what was coming.

"Antidotes can be incredibly difficult to brew, and very dangerous potions indeed should something go wrong when they are made." He began, as Draco's hand began to rest upon her knee. She stiffened with shock, sliding her eyes to the side to look at his bored expression, as if he were doing absolutely nothing wrong what so ever. She swallowed, and in retaliation, pressed her leg against his, smothering the joy the contact gave her as she did so. "Can anybody tell me which antidote this one is?" Slughorn was now saying, casually wafting his hand over the fumes so they could each take in a deep breath of it.

It stank of rotten vegetables, left to ferment in the sun, and the faint blue smoke it emitted misted over its royal blue hue. A memory stirred in the back of her mind, a conversation shared eons ago, when childhood thoughts of teachers possibly poisoning one another was a genuine possibility; and not the fantasy it should have been. She bit her lip, and let her hand rest upon Draco's as he squeezed her knee; her other hand going up into the air.

"Ah, Miss Granger," Slughorn acknowledged as Pansy rolled her eyes.

"It's Wolfsbane," she told him; her voice cracking as she thought of Lupin, and the third year that had been so very life changing for her. The real turn in what it truly meant to be to be a friend of Harry Potter. Draco's fingers were now rubbing her knee gently, as if he had sensed something was wrong and upsetting her, and she rubbed the back of his hand with her thumb; wondering what on earth they were doing. Wondering what they were.

"Very good, ten points to Gryffindor," Slughorn said, before telling the rest of the class just how truly difficult the potion was to master, and that it was almost impossible to make; the fact it had been created at all was a wonder in itself. He shuffled to the next steaming potion, a clear liquid that had a peachy aroma too it, one that Padma identified as being the antidote to love potion. A fact that went right over her head, as under the desk Draco had her hand clasped within his.

They needed to talk about their kiss, the constant contact they seemed to be sharing, or in her own case longing for. They needed to talk.

"Yes, yes, very good Mr Macmillan, it is indeed a memory potion; very good in helping someone remember," Slughorn was saying. Hermione's heart fell out of her chest, leaving a bloody mess on the floor beneath her, the stonework becoming suddenly drenched in her tears. Draco's hand suddenly left hers, and she gasped.

"Miss Granger…is…oh!" Slughorn said, noting her tearful expression. Draco was digging about in his bag, until he came up again, a perfectly clean handkerchief in his hand. He offered it to her, concern and sheer curiosity in his expression as he met her eyes. She took it, smiling in thanks as she turned back to the now completely silent class.

"Yes, yes, sorry; I'm perfectly ok, just…bad memories." She explained with an awful joke, thinking of her parents in Australia, the auror team that would be sent out to get them, and the dreadful amount of that potion they may be forced to swallow should they return.

"Ah, yes…understandable." Slughorn nodded, looking awkward and pained as Pansy looked as though Christmas had come early. Hermione dabbed at her eyes as Draco leaned towards her, keeping his voice low.

"Are you honestly alright?" He asked her, his breath warm against her neck, sending the hairs on her arms up into goosebumps.

"Yes, I am, I'll explain…later." She said to him, as Slughorn began to flick open the text book.

"You will be working on the potion for dreamless sleep; you have all lesson. You may begin!" Slughorn announced, as conversation exploded between partners choosing who would do what.

"Sit here, I'll get everything we need." Draco said to her, watching her catch the remaining tears with his handkerchief; she blushed and nodded as a sinking, almost angry memory bubbled to the surface again. She flipped open her book, looking at the recipe and scrutinising every instruction with a borderline angry eye. The page was clean, clear from any scrawls that had been added in previous years, as her copy was new; fresh from the press. Only, why were these instructions telling them to do it one way; if there were clearly better ways of doing things, as Harry's soaring marks in potions had proved during their sixth year. She glowered, quietly scowling at the instructions as Draco dumped a load of ingredients beside her with a loud thud; the glass jars slamming on the wood.

"You look mad." He commented dryly, organising the ingredients into order of use, something Hermione had never done before, and her surprise at something so obvious made her falter slightly.

"Not mad just…" she sighed, "look, this may sound utterly insane, but last year…ok no, sixth year Harry suddenly got really good at potions; like, really good." She began, as Draco looked at her curiously, setting a mild flame underneath their cauldron and noting down the time he did it. "It was because someone had annotated his copy of the potions book with all these little bits that should have actually been in the instructions. It just irritates me that we were given these text books, but there is a much more efficient way of doing things that isn't in the book. Why is that? Sure these instructions will get us there eventually, but there is a better way of doing things." Draco was staring at her with a bewildered, almost stunned expression that bordered in mirth.

"You…you mean to tell me you have always done things in class to the book?" He asked her, his eyes wide as he began to shred a mushroom instead of slice it, causing Hermione to stare at him with pent up irritation.

"Well of course I have!" She exclaimed, "It's in the instructions!"

"You never once experimented?"

"No!"

"I suppose that explains why you always do so well." He mused as Hermione began to measure out exactly how much belladonna fluids they'd need.

"Doesn't explain you though, your marks have always been high, and you don't have the whole following instructions thing down." She commented dryly, pointing to the instruction where it said to keep the mushrooms thinly sliced, not shred into small pieces like Draco had done, and was continuing to do with expert strokes of his knife. He threw her a grin, his teeth bright and white against his pale skin, his silvery eyes glittering with mirth as he nodded to his own book.

"I love potions, it's my best subject. Malfoy's don't have to work for a living; I planned to leave Hogwarts and then re-write all the known potions books into doing exactly what you just said. Perhaps create a few more. I've spent time on this, discovering better ways to make each and every potion; I've got a few potions into our first year book, I just have to re-write them now." He admitted as Hermione gaped at him.

:: :: ::

Their sitting room was dark, the faint flickering of candles the only light as the clouds passed over the moon, blocking the moonlight from entering. They were both at their desks, scratching away at the homework from the day. The report on their partner for potions and how well they'd worked together being easier than expected, and her vial of luck potion sitting pride of place by her quills.

She glanced at him, pausing as she dipped her quill in ink. There was no risk with Draco, she decided, unlike Ron, where she stood to lose just so much if they stumbled and failed in their relationship. Draco had no previous friendship with her, no pleasant history to throw away, no family ties. He was clever, ambitious, and he thrilled her in a way she'd never experienced before. She had a crush on him, she would admit that; but the idea of actually being with him scared her.

She wanted it.

She wanted him.

She finished off her report, rolling it up as the ink dried and tucking it away in the cubby hole under her desk, and pulling a fresh sheet of parchment to start on the planning of the fireworks display, making a note to set up a little dish with a sign in the entrance hall to collect money for fireworks.


	25. Lessons and Loss

"So!" Dawlish was saying, now a professor of Hogwarts instead of an auror, "we won't be having any theory lessons, that Is something I expect you to do in your own time, by simply reading the text book you should have all bought. Today we'll be practising the patronus charm; you never know when you'll run into a dementor or lethifold. Now this is typically beyond N.E.W.T level; but what with…recent events and all," his eyes flickered to Draco with a look of sheer distaste, his tone falling from its happy timbre to a displeased grimace, before picking up once more as Draco shifted his weight uncomfortably. "We thought it best to have the first lesson back demonstrating the charm so you can practise it in your own time before we move on to actual N.E.W.T level spells." Members of Dumbledore's Army threw furtive looks to each other during his explaination, hiding smirks and curious glances at the Slytherins; looking wholly unimpressed.

"Now, you'll want to move the desks to the back of the room and tuck your bags underneath so we can get started with some room." Dawlish said, pulling out his wand as Dean and Seamus shared a glance that spoke of showing off. Padma held a small painted on smile, and a sudden swell of pride began to rise within Hermione. Harry had done well. He'd done very well. They clambered out of their chairs, stuffing their books and quills back into their bags as Dawlish got ready to rearrange the room for them. They separated to either side of the room; the Slytherins keeping away from the other houses as the desks suddenly whipped up into the air, crashing together as they stacked against the walls with a heavy bang. Satisfied, Dawlish readied his wand again, ready to educate.

"What you'll need to do for the-"

"Expecto Patronum." Dean said, as if bored; his corporeal Patronus slipping to his feet ready to play. Seamus snickered, his fox joining Deans' patronus as the Patil twins copied. Dawlish seemed to be gaping, taken back by so many corporeal patronuses in the room. Shrugging, Hermione let her otter free, feeling lighter as it swam about her. Drifting, her eyes caught sight of the astonished Slytherins on the other side of the room; Draco's face a mixture of jealousy, rage, and shame.

"How?" Dawlish was gasping, watching the silvery creatures slip about his classroom as they tussled with one another, "These are corporeal, they're not…"

"Dumbledore's Army," Dean supplied with a shrug, and Draco began to sneer furiously to Hermione's shock.

"Dumbledore taught you this?" Dawlish asked, completely forgetting he was supposed to be teaching a lesson.

"No, Harry did."

"Harry…Harry Potter?"

"Yep." Dean answered, attempting to keep his amusement at bay as Dawlish looked to self implode.

"When?" He finally asked, as the Slytherins kept their eyes transfixed on the silvery creatures in front of them, quiet and jealous, their robes illuminated as Seamus's fox strutted past them.

"Fifth year," Hermione cut in as Dean opened his mouth to answer, "But Harry had had to learn it in our third year when Sirius Black had escaped and everyone thought he'd want to kill Harry, making the dementors came to Hogwarts."

"Yeah, and Potter was so afraid of them he would pass out!" Draco finally snarled to the glee of the Slytherins, their low chuckles somehow darkening the room as Daphne looked slightly uncomfortable in comparison to Pansy's delight.

"You thought he was afraid of them?" Hermione asked him in disbelief, blinking at him with surprise as the room fell silent, her otter coming to swim about her waist; the guardian was sensing her need. Draco looked confused, his wintery features scrunching up as he struggled with a retort.

"He'd pass out." He said weakly and Hermione stepped towards him with a look of astonishment.

"He had his parents murdered in front of him when he was a baby. The dementors would make him relive that memory. He would watch his mother be murdered over and over again when they were around. That's why he reacted like that. It's how dementors function." She told him coldly, feeling guilty she'd just revealed the real reason for Harry's fainting moments to the class. Despite her emotions, watching Draco's face fall for his actions in the years previous was still…satisfying. Her emotions conflicted within her as Draco paled, and the class began to twitter amongst themselves, Dawlish sensing he was losing control of the class.

"Very good Miss Granger for knowing how dementors affect you, five points to Gryffindor." Dawlish broke in with a nervous laughter, Hermione's eyes still boring into Draco's panicked, and alarmed ones. "Now, if those of you who can cast the patronus would be so kind, help those who can't after I explain what to do." Dawlish asked, as the atmosphere began to tense again, the guilt beginning to truly boil within Hermione at her giving away information that did not belong to her. She hoped Harry would forgive her, and she tore her gaze away from Draco as Dawlish finished explaining the charm to the Slytherins.

"Now, it's well known that Death Eaters can't perform patronuses, so I expect nothing of you Mr Malfoy," Dawlish said as Hermione raised her brows at his sheer unprofessionalism, "the rest of you, I expect something." He finished, as Draco sneered furiously.

The rest of the class was silent, save for the gentle encouragement to think of the happiest memory they had and focus on it, again and again, watching as they attempted it futilely.

:: :: ::

"Come in! Come in! Find a partner that isn't of your own house and find a seat, I expect we'll have one group of three so I'll make an exception!" Professor Miller was half singing, his bright eyed face excited as he flicked his wand making the door swing open to welcome them all in. They groaned, half ignoring his instructions and sitting where they wanted as Hermione flicked her eyes to Draco, only to find him staring at her pointedly.

"We're the heads Granger. Best make an example." He smirked, grabbing her elbow gently; although it looked rough to the rest of the class, and pulling her into the seat beside him as the professor looked at the pair of them with pleasure.

"Excellent! Our first partners! Ten points to both Slytherin and Gryffindor!" He chirped, as Pansy threw her looks of daggers and Parvarti looked at her questioningly. She shook her head with a slight shrug, inwardly pleased at Draco's initiative, and watched as awkward unions with the rest of the class began to happen.

:: :: ::

"No! Not like that! It's a slight flick of the wrist, and a twist, not so…dramatic as that." She sighed, reaching for his wand hand and placing her own over it in order to guide him through the movement; the way she'd helped Harry and Ron so many times before in the past. The way he was attempting to conjure cutlery from the buttons they'd been given was more likely to set something on fire; something more of Dean's expertise. Draco froze, slowly turning his head to look at her, a platinum brow rose, his expression disbelieving.

"What do you think you're doing?" He asked her dragging out each syllable carefully, making her cower back into the seat and blink in surprise.

"Helping." She answered blankly and hopefully, as Draco's upper lip began to curl.

"Take your hand off mine immediately and explain how patronising me is helping." He demanded, and Hermione took her hand off his as if she'd been slapped, throwing him a filthy look as she did so.

"You're getting the movement wrong; I was going to guide you through it." She defended as both Draco's brows rose this time.

"Oh, and so over exaggerating the movement will help, not slow me down or anything. It's patronising, I need to learn it myself, not have someone baby me through it or I'll make mistakes with it in the future. You might have got away with this with Potter and Weasel, but not with me." He snapped mockingly, and Hermione scowled furiously at him.

"Suit yourself." She shrugged, and to spite him, conjured the cutlery set they'd been tasked to do with no faults.

"Excellent work Miss Granger! Ten points to Gryffindor!" Professor Miller said elated, clapping his hands together. Draco glared.

:: :: ::

They'd gathered, tense and strained at the door of charms, waiting anxiously for Flitwick to let them in. The emotional strain of working with each other had begun to sink in, making them nervous and jittery, as if they were about to attack each other. Flitwick had opened his door only to step back in alarm; their expressions of agony evident. He'd squeaked, and summoned them in, asking them to find a seat; only to stumble backwards this time from the sheer force of their collected sighs of relief. It was how Hermione had found herself sitting next to Parvarti; Padma and Hannah behind her, watching as Pansy cooed over Draco the opposite side of the room.

Her lips were at his ear, her hand on his knee as her other one went to the wood of the stool at his back; possessive. She was whispering something, and Draco seemed to smile lazily, as if he wasn't quite paying attention to what she was saying, but more-so to the intimacy he was recieving _in the middle of a class_. Hermione bristled, smothering the jealousy she felt before Parvarti could comment. Pansy was fawning over him, and Flitwick seemed to be completely ignorant to their inappropriate display. The jealousy boiled and burnt her insides, curling them up into a charred crisp.

"You ok?"

She started writing, the tip of her quill snapping as she pressed a little too hard, and she tipped her head to the side to meet the overly concerned gaze of Parvarti. The Indian girls hair was beautifully coiffed as usual, a dark plum colour over her currently parted lips, and Hermione sighed inwardly, almost jealously.

"Yeh, I'm…I'm ok, I was just thinking; it's so strange being back in lessons, no Harry, no Ron…" She lied, and Parvarti's eyes misted over immediately, her lip quivering. Shame and guilt fought a war in Hermione's chest, as she reached out to take the girls hand in sympathy. "I'm sorry," She whispered as Parvarti shook her head, closing her eyes and fighting back tears.

"No no don't be, it's ok." Parvarti breathed, squeezing Hermione's hand.

"I…I was also thinking about holding a party in the eighth year dorm, for our younger friends from our houses. Some sort of celebratory party for being back at Hogwarts." She whispered, still holding Parvarti's hand in her own as the girl began to perk up a little. A light tap on her shoulder made her turn, the overly excited face of Hannah greeted her.

"If you need help getting butterbeer then I'm your girl, I can get us a few crates." She whispered, understanding the secrecy needed. Hermione's eyes widened a little as Parvarti stifled a startled laugh into a cough.

"That would be great Hannah, if you can get some for a week from now that would be ideal." Hermione replied, keeping her surprise smothered as Parvarti began to choke slightly beside her. She thumped the girls back whilst giving Hannah a warm smile; wondering what on earth she was doing.

:: :: ::

He'd kissed her.

He'd actually kissed Hermione Granger.

It wasn't anything at all like he'd expected; anything he'd ever foreseen himself doing. Kissing the Gryffindor princess. He smirked, unaware of Pansy encroaching on his personal space, her hand now his back rest, her lips nudging ever so close to his ear.

She'd been like drinking pure nectar, she'd been softer, better than he'd ever imagined. He'd spent some time imagining how she'd taste, how she'd feel. The actual event had eclipsed anything he could have dreamed, even if it wasn't the way he'd planned. He stiffened slightly; snarling to the parchment in front of him as he remembered the drunken kiss he'd watched her share earlier that night. Nothing had prepared him for the jealousy he'd felt. Watching him smother her with his mouth, her small form curved under him as he devoured her.

Now she was holding the Patil girls hand, speaking to Abbott, moving those delicious lips carefully and precisely. Merlin he wanted to kiss her again.

Being so close to her earlier in transfigurations had only set his nerves alight, wanting to embrace her; press her against the hard wood of the desk. He'd needed to touch her somehow so much that when she'd tried to help he'd snapped, realising that he'd force himself upon her again, and that wouldn't do well to reveal just yet.

He'd wait.

Wait until they were alone.

Then he'd kiss her.

"Draaaacoooo! Are you even listening?" Pansy complained into his ear as he smirked at his plan.

"Yes Pans," he responded, barely paying attention.

:: :: ::

"For fucks sake, I'm not going to spill my heart out to you!" He snapped, his top lip bent in a snarl, the venom in his grimace slow and painful as Hermione stood her ground against him. Steeling herself for the blizzard he was about to unleash. "What do you expect from me anyway?" He continued, now pacing between the sofa and coffee table like a wolf stalking prey, his eyes set to the floor.

"You've been snapping at me all day; in transfigurations, at lunch, at the prefect meeting, even now! What has gotten into you!?" She retorted, crossing her arms over her chest and scowling at him, even though he wasn't about to turn his head and look at her. He snarled again, contorting his features into an expression of genuine pain, he glowered at the floor.

"Pansy." He mumbled, cold fury dripping from his every word, freezing the air with the lone syllable.

"Pansy." Hermione repeated, stepping forward and throwing herself on to the sofa, relaxing into its leather softness, completely unruffled by the spiteful Slytherins name being brought into to the game. The anger she'd felt earlier watching her paw over him, the way he'd smirked and smiled, bringing up her own rage. She poured water on it the best she could; sensing sarcasm instead.

"Yes, Pansy." He stopped his pacing, turning to face her, his cheeks tinged with the slightest hints of pink.

"…and what has the almighty Parkinson done to ruffle the feathers of the never flustered Malfoy?" She asked him sarcastically, a smile playing on the corners of her mouth, a playful sparkle to her eyes.

"Crabbe." He replied, his voice suddenly monotone, as if all the emotion in the world had ceased to exist.

"Ah."

"Apparently, I look retarded without Crabbe and Goyle, I'll never have the same influence over Nott and Zabini, and I should try looking for another pair of lackeys; not…attempt to make friends." He said, running his hand through his platinum locks, his face tormented, and his other hand falling into his suit pocket, as if it were somewhere for him to hide. "She's so…she's so fucking thick." He said unexpectedly, as Hermione's eyebrows rose, she was not expecting such a criticism of the woman who had literally hung onto him for so many years.

"Oh." She found herself saying, as if to encourage him on, he glanced at her briefly, before staring out the window, lost in his rant once more.

"She understands nothing; literally nothing. You tell her about the magical theory in potions and she completely glosses over, even though we have an essay every bloody year about it, and it's basic, basic stuff. She's just absolutely…but you mention power, galleons, and who you're going to meet on the weekend? She's all over that. Me, with my money, my surname and Crabbe and Goyle to back me up? I don't think her knickers were ever dry when she was around me." He said as Hermione attempted to not let her jaw drop; the arrogant sentence had to be ignored, lest he stop pouring out what was on his mind. "Now Goyle is in Azkaban, and Crabbe…" He swallowed, and Hermione leant forward a little, resting her elbows on her knees as Draco's hands went to his head once more, his features ruined by a look of sheer grief.

"What about Crabbe?" She said gently, and Draco threw her a furious look; the force of which pushing her backwards into the sofa again, forcing her eyes to open and take in the sheer force of his wrath.

"Like you know what it's like to lose someone close to you!" He hissed; and rage exploded within her. She stood up sharply, and Draco stepped back, completely surprised by her sudden movement. Her fists clenched, and she snarled at him with rage.

"Oh, I don't?" She began her voice trembling with her murderous anger, dripping with cold fury, "I guess I don't, it's not like I ever felt anything like friendship with Lupin, or his wife Tonks, or Fred Weasley, or Lavender Brown. I never loved my parents either, so I guess it's totally ok they're gone too. It's not like I burst into tears in potions over them or anything!" She snapped sarcastically; watching as Draco's silvery eyes widened, his skin greying as he paled.

"The Weasley's lost a somebody?" He breathed as Hermione snapped back, stunned.

"You…you didn't know?" She asked him, all anger melting away like the snow under a spring sun.

"…I'm not exactly on speaking terms with the Weasley's." He reminded her, and she blushed feeling slightly ashamed.

"During the final battle, he was killed by an explosion." She told him, as Draco nodded, looking as though things were slowly falling into place.

"Your parents?"

"I had to…I had to wipe their memories, make them believe they never had a daughter or they would be…look, it's irrelevant, I just had to make them safe any way I could." She snapped, feeling the pain well up in her heart forcing it to swell like a balloon. Draco was nodding, his skin a deathly pallor made to look as though a little life lingered under the surface by the flickering torch lights.

"I feel guilty about Crabbe," He admitted eventually, as the pair stood observing one another carefully. "I feel guilty. I feel like I should have known he would have been alright with killing. I feel like I should have expected him to try a curse he'd never tried before, but only just learnt a week ago. I feel like I should have…I should have known bringing him to the room of requirement would have sent him into such a blood lust he'd have…" He sighed, and moved to sit next to Hermione on the sofa, as she lowered herself back once more; sensing the atmosphere had changed.

"It feels fucking awful knowing that you ordered someone around for the entirety of their school life, and they had the capability of something you never could. It's not a good thing; but…the more I think about it, I don't miss him. I should. I should miss him. I feel guilty about it. I should be grieving, but I haven't, I don't, I can't Hermione. He was excited at the prospect of killing you three. Excited. It's…" He swallowed again, and Hermione felt the overwhelming urge to run her hands through his hair for him as he went to rest his head in his palms.

Her hand rose, and rested on the nape of his neck, her fingers running up and down the base of his skull, his silky moonlight white hair falling over her fingertips as he turned to look at her. He shifted, removing his head from his hands and reaching out towards her as excitement flared up in the pit of her stomach. His long fingers cupped her face, his thumbs stroking her cheeks. Leaning forward, he looked at her intensely, his mind made up completely. A gentle pressure pulled her forward to meet him, and she found her lips had parted expectantly.

He kissed her again; slowly, the softness of his lips pressed up against hers, securing her in place. They remained joined for several minutes, slowly moving their lips together, searchingly, soothingly. It was a soul fixing kiss, one that seemed to melt every crack on Hermione's heart, and put it back together again flawlessly. Heat swelled up underneath her skin, pulsating with every beat of her newly mended heart as he pulled away, moving to rest an arm about her shoulders.

"Grief is shit." He said to her, as she smiled weakly.

"Yep."


	26. Quidditch and Women

**Beta'd by Maddiechu**

"Listen here _Malfoy_," The fifth year captain snarled at him, placing both hands onto his chest and giving him a sharp shove, "You may be in my house, and you may think you can just buy your way onto this team like I hear you did the first time; but let me get this through that spoilt skull of yours. You don't have your Daddy's money this time. I don't even know if I want you on this team." He finished, pushing him again so that he stumbled slightly, stepping back on the freshly grown grass of the pitch with irritation. Draco bristled inwardly, schooling his expression into the calm it was supposed to be, his position as Head Boy was being tested. The abuse would make him a better person he thought to himself, gripping the handle of his broom tighter.

"You're right," he agreed blithely, meeting the boys eyes coolly, "I don't have my Daddy's money this time, because it's my money now." The captain sneered viciously, taking a dangerous step forward.

"You think I'd want someone like you on this team though? Even with _your _money? With all you've done? You're more trouble than your worth Malfoy." The truth stung him, and he could feel the betrayal of blood rushing to his cheeks with the humiliation.

"I'm here to try out for seeker. If I'm not the best, don't have me on the team. It's as simple as that. I'm not planning to give you trouble, I don't want it."

"Kerven," a girl said, reaching out to catch the captains arm with a wary expression, "just let him try out, just see what happens. You're the one starting this fight, not him." She coaxed as he flinched.

"What position are you trying for?" Kerven grunted at him, obviously restraining himself from punching him.

"Seeker."

"Same position as Jenna here." He growled, almost protectively of the girl. Draco looked at her curiously, noting her small hands on his arm, gripping it tightly and pulling him slightly backwards away from him. Her large, almost too large for her head pale brown eyes were filled with worry and trepidation, her dirty blonde hair tied in a messy bun to keep it away from her face.

"I can play chaser too," Jenna interjected, looking pleadingly at him, "Max, come on this is stupid!" She continued as he brushed her off roughly, rolling his shoulders as he sucked in air through his teeth, making his full cheeks appear strangely misshapen.

"Ok, ok, here is what is going to happen. You're going to try out. It'll be fair. I don't want to lose this position after all." He seemed to decide aloud, and Jenna looked relieved, picking her broom up off the ground. "But; if you make this team, if you so much as fuck up once…you're off. I'm replacing you." He snarled, and Draco nodded back at him, disinterested with his threats.

:: :: ::

"Thanks for coming," Ginny panted, dragging her broom along behind her as she climbed the stands to sit beside Hermione. "Means a lot, I know you did it for Harry and Ron, but it's wonderful you'll do it for me too." She finished; slumping into the wooden seats with a heavy sigh as Hermione moved her bag for her.

"It's nothing, really." Hermione smiled as a sudden knowing smirk split across the redhead's face.

"Oh, you're planning to stay a while aren't you; you're planning to watch a certain Slytherin try out." She said smoothly, a coy twist to her tone that made Hermione blush. "Ok, what's happened?" She finished, noting her friends surprising reaction, and feeling oddly light about it, noting she wasn't…unhappy. The Slytherins seemed to be in deep conversation with each other, holding the balls and pointing, as if to separate who wanted to try out for what.

"With…with what you say before…did you mean it?" Hermione asked quietly, unable to look up from the book in her lap, clearly not reading it. Ginny started, turning to stare at her friend.

"Oh, tell me, _what_ did happen?" She asked with a hint of laughter in her tone.

"Ginny!" Hermione hissed, almost pleading, her eyes wide and desperate.

"I meant it Hermione!" Ginny replied, surprised with her reaction, and pulling her broom across her lap. "You're like my sister!"

"We kissed." Hermione admitted as Ginny's jaw dropped.

"Once?"

"Twice."

"When?"

"First day back and yesterday."

"Good?" Ginny found herself asking, as if it were the most important subject topic, and not that her best friend kissing a nemesis of theirs was anything important.

"How is kissing Harry?" Hermione asked, suddenly interested. Ginny raised her brow, curious.

"Like you're drinking the most addictive elixir in the world, like, like we're melting together, and you don't want it to stop." She answered, biting her lip slightly.

"Then it was like that Gin. It was nothing I've ever experienced before in my life. I've kissed Krum, I've kissed McLaggen, I've kissed…well you know about Ron; but Draco…"

"Oh it's Draco now?"

Hermione blushed further, and Ginny turned her gaze to the air, watching as Malfoy seemed to be hovering on his broom, as if he were surfing. She grinned, recognising the look of bliss across his pointed features as one she'd seen on Harry's face so many times before. She turned back to Hermione seeing that she'd hidden her face completely.

"Well let's think about this Hermione, what do you want from this?"

"From kissing a guy we knew to be a complete scumbag?" Hermione asked pointedly, and Ginny snorted with laughter, tightening her pony tail as she spied the Slytherin captain speaking to the group that seemed to be the potential beater group with a malicious expression.

"Well yeah, is that all you want? Just kisses?"

Hermione seemed to consider the question slowly, apparently taken aback by such a thought, the idea mulling over in her mind. Ginny smiled to herself, surprised at how the situation had changed so much from the years before, her nervous self asking questions on how to get Harry to notice her, and now she was making Hermione evaluate her relationships.

"I…" Hermione began, trailing off almost immediately as Ginny smirked to herself.

"Tell me when the two of you have had a good conversation about all of this." She decided, realising that the boy with the blonde hair could have a very different intention compared to what Hermione could want. As much as she hated to think about it, the blood that gave them life could mean so much to him still, despite Hermione's obvious indifference. Hermione was nodding, her eyes glued to the platinum haired boy.

"I just want you to know, I did still come to support you in your Quidditch captaincy." Hermione said with a light smile, "It's just that, I guess with Harry to focus on, I've never really seen him fly before."

"He's never been bad in the air," Ginny began, analysing Malfoy's previous history on a broom, "Just never as good as Harry."

"I've never really noticed." Hermione admitted, "I never cared for him before, so why would I pay attention to that, I was more concerned about him having a wand, or a bat, or something he shouldn't in case he wanted to beat the living daylights out of Harry."

"Now you want to see what?" Ginny asked her curiously, unsure why Hermione seemed to be fixated on the way he flew.

"Harry was always so…different when he flew, Ron was happier, and so is everyone else in your family when they fly. You all just seem to enjoy it. I guess…I think I just need to see that he thinks the same about it if I'm to…I don't know what I want with him. I think I just associate so many good memories with flying that even though I don't enjoy it myself, it's become one of those strange integral things you need in a partner. I guess it's an unexpected deal breaker, one that makes literally no sense, but the idea of being with someone with it is just impossible." Hermione sighed as Ginny nodded along.

"Yeah, I'm the same; I couldn't be with someone who doesn't enjoy wizarding chess. I'm not a fan of it myself, but…Ron does, you know, my family do. It's…I guess you had it right. It's an integral thing. Just, Hermione. Malfoy loves to fly."

She smiled.

:: :: ::

The air was warm, with a slight chill to it that somehow heightened his senses, the heat of the sun warming his blood as if he'd become a reptile, clinging to his broom a hundred feet in the air. It was liberating. He'd missed flying. Missed the wind whipping his clothing about, missed the smell of the air at such high altitude, and missed the feel of nothing to hold him back.

"NOW!" Max bellowed, unclenching his fist and releasing a little golden ball with wings. The snitch seemed to sniff the air, as if it were a conscious being, and shot off upwards. A little gold speck against the heat of the sun.

"Don't go easy on me," He said to Jenna gently, "If you deserve this spot, earn it."

She looked at him surprised to be spoken to, and tugged her gloves on further up her wrists, a quick but firm nod given in response.

"THREE MORE MINUTES, THEN YOU CAN GO!" Max yelled, staring at a watch he was holding up with a squinting expression.

Draco scanned the stands, spotting the Weasley girl with her broom clambering up to a girl he thought was possibly Hermione. He shook the feeling off, knowing she wasn't a fan of Quidditch. She didn't even have a favourite team. He shook his head, and dipped his broom up and down, as if he were riding a wave as an air current blew over them.

Something dawned over him.

He dipped, hovering in mid-air, the currents of the wind cooler and warmer; only…a little. His broom rose again, and a sensation like he'd never experienced floated over him. He felt truly weightless. It was if everything had been taken off him, his clothing, and the flesh from his bones, his worries. There was nothing but him, his broom; the air.

He'd never really flown before.

He looked over to the Weasley girl again and; it could possibly be Hermione, his hair ruffled by another wind he'd felt coming. Was this how Potter felt? The moment the damn boy had grabbed the broom in their first flying class he'd commanded the air in a way Draco had never seen before. Potter could fly. He'd even heard Krum admiring Potter's flying skills. An international Quidditch star, famed for living and breathing the sport complimented Potter's flying skills. Was…was this why? The feeling of weightlessness. The feeling of freedom.

Up here there were no expectations. No demands. He could be whoever he wanted to be. The Weasley girl, Ginny she was called, seemed to be looking at him with a grin plastered over her face. The other one, with her sleek brown hair, was hiding her own face behind her hands. He lifted his hand, letting it feel the current of air with a small smile on his face.

He could be whoever he wanted up here.

Who was he now?

He was still the son of a Death Eater, a child of the Malfoy line. A child of the Black line. He was still a pureblood. He smirked to himself, closing his eyes as the breeze rippled over his face, tussling his hair. He was a blood traitor now. There was something so…freeing about that. He was the Head Boy of Hogwarts. He was a Death Eater. A Death Eater that never wanted the mark.

"GO!" Max shouted. He opened his eyes as the air seemed to shoot past him faster, and Jenna fired off in a dive immediately. He turned to look where she was diving, spying no sight of a gold ball. She was attempting to get him distracted. He smiled. More time to think. More time to…feel the air.

The heat of the sun was warming him through, the cool air cleansing his insides. His eyes scanned the world around him, checking carefully for the little glint of hope.

He would never be Potter. And that was alright now. His jealousy of the years before seemed so laughable. He'd wanted to beat him so many times on the pitch before. Fly the way Potter did, but that was never going to happen. Potter seemed to transform when he came to the air, and now, now he understood why. Potter was able to forget everything when he came up here. He wasn't the 'Boy Who Lived', or 'The Chosen One', or 'Scarhead'. He was just…Potter.

Draco grinned suddenly, as a laugh spilled from his mouth, pouring unbidden from his chest.

Up here, he was Draco Lucius Malfoy; the man who had made mistakes. The man who was perfectly ok with that. The exact same man who was proud to be traitorous to his bloodline.

The man who had just seen the snitch.

He checked that Jenna hadn't, only to spot her circling the pitch needlessly a few feet below him. He smiled lazily to himself, nudging his broom into a slow movement, letting the wind carry him. He didn't want to alert her to anything uncalled for. She wasn't paying attention.

With a deep, cold breath, he angled his broom down.

He may be a Malfoy, he may be a Slytherin, he may have been a Death Eater; but now he was the wind itself.

The air seemed to move for him, let him pass like a shooting star in their midst as he dived, his body close and tight to the broom. He angled his elbows in closer to his body. He tipped his head up slightly, steadying himself as he made to reach out.

The ground was coming ever closer, and Jenna had spotted his dive, but she'd spotted too late. She was speeding too slowly. It was as if she hadn't come to the same realisation he had.

The snitch was hovering in the same spot, casually flapping its wings lazily, unaware of it being chased.

The green of the pitches grass was becoming brighter.

He wrapped his fingers about the snitch triumphantly as his arm bent the wrong direction.

He gasped, watching the bludger drop to the ground. Its mission accomplished.

His elbow was at the wrong angle.

"Good work Jacks, you made the team." Kerven was saying, as sounds of whoops followed.

His elbow was at the wrong angle.

The ground was close.

The ground was here.

He smashed into it, listening to his broom splinter with the impact as he fell off it, landing on his back. The air sucked out of him.

His elbow was at the wrong angle.

Footsteps, careful and slow in their pacing were coming closer, the angry face of Max coming into focus.

"Congratulations. You made the team." Max Kerven was saying, standing over him with a beaters bat in his hand.

"Thanks," He grunted, the waves of agony firing daggers through his arm. Max snarled, swinging his arm. The one that held the bat. With a furious roar he brought it powerfully down onto his shoulder.

The crack was ear splitting.

The wood shattered.

"Dick." Max said.

"MAX!" Jenna screamed.

"Draco!" It _was_ Hermione.

The world was so devoid of colour.

The world was so quiet.

The world went black.

:: :: ::

"We need to talk Draco." She said, staring at him in the hospital wings bed with the concern usually reserved for Harry or Ron. He sighed, rolling his eyes dramatically as he shifted in the sheets to make himself a little more comfortable.

"About what?" He asked, now resting against an abundance of pillows, and arranging the sheets about him gingerly as the splint on his wrist began to make his work difficult.

"You…" she looked about, checking that no one was able to overhear her before meeting his now amused eyes with a disbelieving glare. "You kiss me twice and don't understand why we need to talk?" She hissed, despite determining that Madam Pomfrey was at the other end of the room, and the next closest patient was five beds away fast asleep. Draco paled, his lips coming together in an almost afraid line as he regarded her carefully.

"Do you want me to stop?" He asked bracing himself. She stared, feeling the familiar flush fill her cheeks.

"No."

"So I won't." He said, as if that decided everything.

"No! That…that's not ok either!" Hermione said exasperated, wondering how she'd got herself into such a mess in the first place. "You can't…you can't just kiss me and let that be it; do you like me Draco? Do you want more?"

"I…" he faltered, his cheeks tinging with a pale pink hue.

"Ok…think of it this way; if I started spending time with I don't know…say Seamus, and we kissed; how would you feel?" She asked him imploringly, staring his winter eyes down as she fought for answers. Draco swallowed, sneering slightly before his eyes widened, and his expression became startled.

"I think I get what you're getting at Hermione." He said quietly, meeting her eyes with a look of longing. "You don't want to be just friends do you?"

"It's clear we have never been 'just friends!' First we hated each other, then we tolerated each other, then you're…then you're pinning me against walls so we can eavesdrop on my friends engagement and…"

"Kissing?" He offered, a smirk dancing over his lips as he watched her blush.

"Yes…that."

"Do…do you think we can be more than friends? Is that what you want? For us to be…together?"

"Is that even possible?" She asked him, feeling ashamed at his offended flinch.

"I'm perfectly happy having a mudblood as my girlfriend if that's what you mean." He said to her coldly, and she sighed, slipping her hand into his bandaged one.

"That…that wasn't what I meant. I meant if it would be possible for us two actually being able to make a relationship work; given everything." She said quietly, and his brows furrowed. She looked at him; feeling the shame and surprise mingle underneath her skin, hover on the tip of her tongue with words she didn't want to admit yet. She bit her lip, stifling her questions, as Draco's eyes met hers. She blushed fully, taking in his sharp features that held so much dangerous beauty with a flutter in her stomach.

She actually wanted a relationship with Draco Malfoy. She didn't want a fling, or a few messed up kisses behind a statue, or in their sitting room. She wanted the whole deal, hand holding in the corridors, dates to Hogsmeade, a possible…a possible future. She swallowed as he ran his free hand through his hair as he looked at her, his expression tense and a little embarrassed. There was no risk with him; he held different dangers as a potential boyfriend, her name run through the mud in the press again most likely…but problems that would actually affect her? Minimal. There was no previous friendship in danger of being ruined. No loss of the full Weasley family, if Ginny's words were true. Given her sincere expression at the time, Hermione believed they were.

"You know…you know I was never really with Pansy? I've never had a girlfriend before." He admitted, breaking up her thoughts and making her look at him in shock.

"But she was all-"

"All over me, yeah I know. It was just easier letting her, and pandering to it. I don't know what to do with a girlfriend. So I am going to disappoint you." He told her earnestly as Hermione choked a laugh out.

"My first boyfriend was short lived because I wouldn't do long distance, I don't think this one will disappoint. I don't have very high expectations." She laughed gently, the shock of what they were talking about finally sinking in.

"So is this what we both want then?" He asked, linking his fingers with hers and casually throwing part of his sheet over them just in case of intruders. She noted the action and twisted her lips slightly.

"I want it, but…how long will we have to hide it for?"

"I want it too," he whispered, suddenly shy, "and just until the school doesn't think I've cursed you into this." He suggested as she squeezed his fingers under the blanket. "We hide it because we know what people will say…"

"Reveal it slowly?" She whispered back, looking at him hopefully.

"I can do that; start flirting with you in the hallways, kiss you in class, I can do that." He smirked and Hermione laughed.

"I need to meet Ginny;" Hermione sighed, as Draco looked disappointed, "I'll see you later." She smiled pulling Draco's hand to her lips and kissing it.

"You're the worst girlfriend ever," He said forlornly, watching Hermione turn and leave him, sweeping up her bag as she headed towards the doors; lighter on her feet.


	27. Conflict and Turmoil

**Beta'd by Maddiechu.**

AN: I would just like to say something, given the slew of negative reviews, and the equal amount of PM's from people telling me to ignore them.

I don't ignore reviews. I publish every single one, no matter what it says. Your opinion on this fic is valid; and in a lot of cases: I agree. This fic was started as a way to get me back into the habit of writing. It was poorly planned out, and there are problems with it from the get go. Grammatical, plot errors, continuity errors... In light of that, I feel like I need to remind some of you that this is _**fan fiction**_**. I have one fantastic beta; in comparison to published writers who thank twenty people who helped them iron out issues before it even gets to an editor. There will be problems. Another note to point out is that: this isn't even my world. I will never know it as well as J. will and does. I can only hope to.**

When _**Restoration**_** is completely finished, I will be working on fixing all these errors the best I can. However, I am now currently writing a new fic (that will not be published for a long while yet), in an attempt to boost the quality of what I can produce on this site. **_**Restoration**_** has achieved what I set out to achieve. I am back in the habit of writing again. Perhaps **_**The Winter Sun**_** will be better. We shall see.**

:: :: ::

She smiled, watching the group of third years throw galleons into the collection dish by the entrance to the hall; they would soon have enough money to put on a real show come November fifth.

"Happy?" Parvarti asked, filling her bowl of cereal with a curious twist of her lips.

"Yeah," Hermione replied, turning her eyes away from the collection dish, "I'm just excited about all the fireworks I'll be able to order. Hagrid has already started to build the bonfire, and George will be sending the first delivery of fireworks soon. I'm just…excited."

"What? No feelings about the party tonight that you created?" Parvarti said, grinning at her as Ginny clambered on to the bench with a thrilled expression. Hermione smiled knowingly, as Ginny looked as though she were about to interrupt.

"So, I got the best news ever." She announced, immediately filling her plate with bacon and eggs.

"Harry coming to the first Hogsmeade weekend?" Parvarti guessed as Ginny blushed.

"It's on par with that," Ginny admitted, as Hermione looked stunned.

"Ok, what is on par with seeing Harry?" Hermione asked her, as Parvarti's expression changed to one of hunger at the idea of gossip. Ginny gave a wicked grin, and leant forward slightly as if she were about to reveal something completely scandalous.

"The Slytherins are in the shit." She whispered as Parvarti's hungry face fell to one of disappointment, and Hermione looked confused. "Their Quidditch captain has had his position removed. He's not even allowed back on the team." Ginny continued, as both girls perked up slightly.

"That…Kerven guy?" Parvarti asked, suddenly interested as Hermione attempted to not look like she was hanging onto Ginny's every word.

"Yeah, turns out, one of the beaters trying out talked. Malfoy's arm being broken wasn't an accident at all, Kerven told them to aim for Malfoy. First two to harm him would instantly get on the team. That idiot Jacks was bragging about it to one of the Slytherin girls, Astoria? I think that's her name, anyway, turns out she's a prefect, so she went straight to McGonagall. She feared that if she knew something and didn't speak up she'd get her prefect status removed. McGonagall was furious. She then went and spoke to Hooch, and they decided it was a massive violation of Quidditch try-out rules, and malicious at that. McGonagall has just given the Captaincy to a fourth year girl. Jenna…something." Ginny revealed, rolling her wrist in the air as she struggled to recall the girls name; throwing Hermione a knowing look as she leant back, ready to dig into the meal she'd been collecting before speaking.

"Doesn't surprise me it was a Slytherin that grassed the other one in," Parvarti admitted, filling up her goblet as she tucked a stray strand of ebony hair behind her ear, "they're a complete mess."

"A mess?" Hermione asked confused, looking to the Slytherin table with a curious expression.

"Yeah, they're doing nothing but fight between themselves, some are pissed that Malfoy is their Head Boy; whilst others are delighted. Not to mention, their reputation is the lowest it's been in years, and some of them aren't particularly helping improve it." She said, lowering her voice as Pansy swanned past them, her pug nose in the air, and her eyes on the platinum blonde man with his arm in a sling. The Slytherin table was quieter than usual, and gaps had opened up where friendship cliques would previously merge. Dirty looks were being thrown at the different groups constantly, while members of the groups would huddle together; almost as if they were seeking safety. Draco was on his own, a wide berth given to him from either side until Daphne sat beside him, Pansy on the other side; winding her arm about his broken one as Draco's previously placid expression broke into a snarl. His long fingers untangling her arm from his as if she were a spider. He turned to Daphne and nodded with a greeting which she returned, her focus elsewhere as Pansy began to hiss furiously. With a start, Hermione realised that Pansy's spiteful spits were the only sounds coming from the Slytherin table; the atmosphere surrounding them was rotten, and it only clung to that house.

"Why are they so split over Malfoy being Head Boy?" Hermione asked as Pansy began to simper at a now irritated looking Draco.

"Some are pleased that he's Head Boy because he's a pureblood, others because he's like…I dunno, supposed to be the poster boy for reformation; the one that the Slytherins need. Others are pissed because he didn't deserve it, not with being a Death Eater and all. A lot of people…in fact, most of the people back here think the trial was fixed and he should have been sent to Azkaban. There have been protests over it." Parvarti told her as both Ginny and Hermione looked at her in shock, Ginny's fork falling to her plate with an overly loud clatter as Pansy's shrill laugh swallowed the other noises in the room.

"You've been practising your Patronus!" Pansy trilled amused with the idea for some reason, "I don't get why, you'll never need it!" The three girls rolled their eyes in unison, their own conversation forgotten as Pansy's comments became impossible to ignore. Her cackles died down, and Hermione restrained herself from looking over to her newly crowned boyfriend curiously, attempting to ignore the Slytherin girl as Ginny gritted her teeth, shaking it off to consider what had been said.

"There have been protests?" Ginny asked stunned, as Parvart's words sunk in; Hermione's focus now plastered back to her housemate.

"How the heck did you not know? It's been all over the papers, same with anything they can get with anyone who is now a War-Hero." Parvarti replied, blinking with surprise.

"Ah, well…we've sort of stopped getting the paper at home." Ginny admitted as Hermione nodded the same.

"I suppose I understand," Parvarti shrugged.

"Just easier to…get away from everything when you're not seeing what people are saying about your life nowadays," Hermione sighed, buttering a slice of toast.

"Want me to fill you in?" Parvarti asked with a sly grin, and Hermione laughed, suddenly intrigued.

"Oh go on then."

"Well, they're really disappointed about you and Ron. They're over the moon about Harry and Ginny. Harry in Auror training they just adore. Same with Ron. Ginny they're really intrigued about you; they haven't been able to get much about you though. They're unable to control themselves when it comes to you and Malfoy, Hermione, but still compare him to Ron. Malfoy on his own, they hate him. With you…they love him." Parvarti said with a wry sparkle to her eyes, as if she suspected something must be true in all of the nonsense the paper printed.

"Malfoy and I?" Hermione asked blankly, as Ginny became overly interested in her drink, hiding a smile behind her goblet.

"Yeah, they got several pictures of you two throughout the summer, and they keep re-printing them. When they found out you were Heads of Hogwarts together they started to predict a possible romance, stating it as the only real way Malfoy could truly redeem himself."

"Oh Merlin," Hermione sighed.

"It gets better, there are huge fights about the Malfoys, some wish they all would have got the Kiss, to end the Malfoy line for good. Some say that all they are are trouble makers some say. Others call them opportunists, and think that the youngest Malfoy is going to start looking for all the opportunities he can to make himself look good again; you being an ideal one. Some think he put the imperious on McGonagall to become Head Boy." Parvarti continued as Pansy gave another shriek and a strange, sighing like noise followed, making them drop their conversation and turn to stare at the Slytherins with confusion.

Daphne and Pansy were standing up glaring at each other, Draco between them, his arm in his sling as he ate his omelette with a bored expression over his features. His eyes met Hermione's, and he smirked at her, making her insides ruffle with pleasure.

"So what if he's been practising his Patronus! We're all supposed to be doing it you idiot!" Daphne said exasperated, as Pansy sneered furiously.

"He won't fucking manage it!" Pansy spat as a collective gasp echoed down the table, and Draco continued to look disinterested.

"And why is that Pansy?" Daphne challenged as Hermione looked ready to stand to break the argument up.

Pansy's face contorted, as if her cheeks were stuck in high winds, but her lips were drowning. Her skin changed a strange puce tone, the anger destroying her ability to communicate as Daphne began to lean over Draco viciously.

"If you can't think of a good reason, just shut up Pansy! You're not helping things for Slytherin! You're actually making things worse! We both know who would have had us all killed last year Parkinson, and it wasn't Malfoy offering us up to the Dark Lord was it?" Daphne bellowed, as silence began to fall like snowflakes over the hall, knives forks and goblets being lowered with gentle metallic clangs, as bodies began to twist to look at the argument. Pansy had attempted to step forward, forgetting Draco was between them. He rolled his eyes, picking his plate up and standing up, moving back to the wall and continuing to eat as he leant against it; apparently making his stance on the matter clear. Ginny had frozen in place, her fists clenching with a rage that seemed to suck all the air out of the room, slowly and carefully, she stood.

"She's right." Ginny said in a deathly quiet manner, stepping over the bench as the eyes of the room fell on her; her own pair glued to Pansy who seemed to be confused as to why she was joining in.

"And?" Pansy asked carelessly facing Daphne again, "You're a god damn pureblood, you would have been fine." She said offhandedly as Daphne looked stunned and Ginny exploded.

"SO AM I!" Ginny roared, as the room collectively jumped, not expecting the sudden loud noise, a few students removing their wands from their pockets cautiously. "BUT I WOULD HAVE BEEN MURDERED JUST LIKE EVERYONE ELSE IN THIS ROOM!" She screamed, suddenly uncontrollable. Pansy stepped backwards, falling with a thud onto the bench she'd forgotten was there, before she climbed over it, attempting to look graceful and giving Draco a pleading look. He smirked at her amused, using his fork to cut the remainder of his omelette and looked back to Ginny with intrigue behind his eyes.

Ginny was trembling, her hair in its ponytail betraying her seemingly strong stance, its quivering in time with her shakes. Her fists clenched and stark white, her expression out for blood, her wand still safely tucked away.

"And?" Pansy repeated, enjoying the spectacle. "Why should I care? You're no loss." She continued, as Daphne picked a plate up from the table unnoticed. McGonagall began to stand, as Dawlish copied, his wand expertly aimed at the three girls, Slughorns own wand also aimed with a slight tremor.

"I don't care if I die!" Ginny spat, "But you offered up my boyfriend to be murdered!"

"Are you saying the wizarding future of this country is 'no loss?'" Daphne asked in less than a whisper as Ginny stepped forward. "Don't Weasley!" Daphne shot as she spied Ginny's movement. Ginny stumbled, catching herself as her furious expression changed to one of confusion. Hermione jumped to her feet, her wand out as McGonagall began to stride towards them, her lips drawn tightly together. Daphne's fingers were white about the plate, Pansy's face daring and amused, still uncomprehending despite the position she was in. "Fuck it bitch, I'm done with you. I'm no prefect or Quidditch captain, I've nothing to lose." She said, her voice gaining traction as she lifted the ceramic plate.

Daphne brought the plate down swiftly over Pansy's head, watching as she reeled disorientated and several jets of light shot towards them. Draco ducking quickly, letting his own plate go as he shielded his head with his hand. Daphne fell gracefully, as she began to levitate, her blonde hair hiding her beautiful face as the rest of the plate fell out of her hand. Pansy was as still as a board on the floor, her eyes wide and shifting with terror as McGonagall hurried towards them. Dawlish at a flat out run, his wand lowering Daphne to the floor as whispers began to break out. Draco brushed himself off, looking towards a stunned Hermione with a strange expression on his face, his robes slightly mussed from the egg he'd accidentally thrown. Ginny had stumbled back on to the bench, and was now staring at the scene with a humiliated expression.

"Miss Greengrass!" McGonagall said her voice tight and measured as she studied the girl, "can you hear me?" She asked as Daphne's head rose unnaturally upwards.

"Yes," she whispered, her cheeks stained with her blush, her eyes watery.

"One hundred points from Slytherin, and a detention every Saturday for a month." She said, waving her hand to Dawlish who lifted her restraint on Daphne immediately. Daphne covered her face with her hands at once, and fled from the hall, a younger blonde girl getting up from the table and following her.

"Astoria…" Hermione breathed to herself, finally connecting the dots as Draco stepped back to let her pass, and Parvarti slipped her wand away.

"Miss Parkinson," McGonagall said in the same dangerous tone as before, "you didn't attack anyone, but I wouldn't be surprised to hear you provoked people. Fifty points from Slytherin." Pansy seemed to relax suddenly as she gathered herself together, standing with a proud smirk on her face. With a deliberate look at the rest of the room, McGonagall turned to walk back to the staff table, the whispers becoming louder as chat began to develop, an avalanche unleashed.

"See. Totally messed up." Parvarti said, referring to their conversation from earlier as Draco grabbed his bag from under the table, readying himself to leave.

Hermione shook her head bewildered, as Ginny began to look ashamed, noticing McGonagall hadn't returned to her meal, but was instead heading straight towards her.

"Professor…"Ginny started as McGonagall neared, only stopping as McGonagall raised her hand.

"I don't want to hear it Miss Weasley. Thirty points from Gryffindor for getting involved in an argument you shouldn't have, and provoking Miss Greengrass to escalate the situation." Ginny nodded mutely, her eyes misting over as McGonagall seemed to read the girls emotion better than Hermione could. "I understand the need to protect those you love Miss Weasley, but…we are not at war anymore; let us not resort to those tactics ever again." She continued with a curt look to Hermione and Parvarti.

"Yes Professor." Ginny nodded, as McGonagall began to retreat back to her meal. Watching her go Ginny sighed, "I really was going to bash Parkinson's head in. I didn't want to curse her, I wanted the satisfaction of hurting her myself, not my magic; me. She was going to…" She sighed again, shaking her head with despair, "I feel bad. McGonagall's right, doesn't matter what she did then, I can't react like that."

"Not when Greengrass obviously did what she did to keep you in your captaincy," Parvarti said pointedly with an amazed tone, "I mean, that's what she said, 'I'm no prefect or quidditch captain'." Parvarti grinned, picking her drink up as Hermione copied, looking to Ginny with concern.

"Let's just get to classes and get ready for the party tonight," Hermione said as the two girls nodded in agreement, dwelling on the events with confused minds.

:: :: ::

"Granger," He drawled, watching the Gryffindor girl walk out the Great Hall with a distracted expression. Her head snapped about looking for the source of her summoning as he chuckled to himself, walking towards her. "Here, Granger." He said to her as he neared her, she smiled brightly, her face lighting up like the sun and she walked towards him.

"Getting involved in fights already Malfoy? You're supposed to be Head Boy," she chided playfully as they fell into step together.

"I'll have you know they were fighting over me, literally." He responded as Hermione laughed. "Anyway, I wanted to ask you a couple of things before first period. Firstly, the trick or treating event. The Hufflepuffs want us in costume. Feel like matching?" He asked her, raising his eyebrow suggestively.

"As in…like a couple?" Hermione whispered as he smirked at her, nodding. "Then sure. Think of something we can go as!"

"Excellent, question two; I don't get the happy memory thing with the patronus." He admitted, lowering his voice and leaning into her as a pair of ravenclaws walked past them, openly staring at the two known enemies chatting together as if nothing was wrong.

"What don't you get?" Hermione asked, oblivious to the stares and the intimacy of their walk, their shoulders brushing together, Draco's sling resting on the top of her bag.

"Just…all of it."

"You need to think of something you've experienced that has made you so happy. Then focus on that thought, the way you felt, the memory while you cast the spell. You need to be happy." She told him, cocking her head to the side as they walked by the house point timers. "Merlin." She breathed, staring in horror.

"You hadn't seen?" Draco asked her astonished, noticing where her gaze had gone and the fact she'd stopped dead still, staring in shock.

"No." She replied, as the rubies and emeralds rose and fell, the sapphires of Ravenclaw suddenly rising in a lone rush as Hufflepuff remained steady. The four timers were all almost completely empty of any points. An unusual occurrence so early in the term when points were being given out in an attempt to coax the students back into the habit of school, and to create the habit itself with the teachers.

"Yeah, there is…trouble, with the house unity thing; and you saw McGonagall, is being really harsh with fights this year." He told her, gripping her wrist gently to encourage her away.

"Is this what this year is going to be like? Points just lost in their hundreds?" She asked him forlornly as he laughed.

"We said it a while ago Granger, it's going to be hard work."

:: :: ::

"You managed to get muggle vinyls to play on a wizarding…?" Hermione was asking a fifth year Ravenclaw in awe, as the girl she'd never met before nodded with pride.

"Yes! It was quite simple really," she began, setting down the gramophone she was clutching on a flat surface and pulling out several large covered disks from her bag as her friend began to help set it up. "It was basically a case of duplicating the music and putting it onto a wizarding vinyl. Once you understand the two work differently, you can get the music on to one or the other." She explained as Hermione looked delighted.

"Queen? You have Queen!?" She asked thrilled as Draco looked confused, and a muggle-born Hufflepuff dashed over with excitement.

"Of course!" The Ravenclaw exclaimed, placing the vinyl in question on to the gramophone and dropping the needle in place.

"I heard the 'claws had muggle music at their parties!" the Hufflepuff said victoriously, his suspicions confirmed as the distinct beats of Queen's '_We Will Rock You'_, began to echo about the common room. Hermione laughed, clapping along with joy as those with less of a muggle upbringing began to look confused at the collective clapping and stamping beginning to build up. Hannah starting to unlock several cases of butterbeer on the tables as guests began to stream in.

Draco looked at her with his expression tormented; the parties start clearly not what he was expecting. Dean pressing a butterbeer into his hand, not recognising who he was handing a drink.

"Thanks," Draco said dully, nodding gratefully as Dean looked a little abashed.

"No worries." He said, as the common room began to fill, more people arriving on time than expected. An air of anticipation and excitement was causing the common room to become a loud giggling mess.

Banners with all the house colours had been hung up, with bowls of snacks put on every conceivable surface. Several of the fireworks Fred and George had invented were primed and ready to go. The music had managed to get several of the muggleborns singing and clapping along loudly, their bottles of butterbeer waving in the air; or microphones to the bemusement of the pure-bloods.

"Hermione," Draco said to her quietly, leaning down to speak by her ear as they both watched Seamus leap onto a table and air guitar to '_Bohemian Rhapsody'_ "What the fuck?" He asked her, as she laughed loudly, taking a swig of her butterbeer.

"Queen is a really popular muggle band, and these are some of the best songs. It's a good way to get the party started actually." She acknowledged, watching as several couples started to dance together, while a group of Ravenclaw boys had wrapped their arms about one another on the sofa, and were stood, bellowing the lyrics while rocking side to side. Dean was laughing and clapping as Seamus acted out the air guitar suspiciously was twirling a dreamy Luna about the common room with a grin on her face.

"And this is how Gryffindor partied?" He asked again in disbelief; causing her to laugh once more.

"Oh no Draco, no one is really drunk yet, and this has only just started; it'll get much better." She answered as Parvarti took hold of her hand and pulled her away from him. Daphne began to sidle up to the pair with a hopeful expression on her face. The events of earlier seemingly forgotten, Pansy mysteriously missing from the gathering.

"Come dance Hermione, you're muggleborn, you should know this!" Parvarti squealed, pulling her towards the table Seamus was now commanding, belting out the lyrics to '_Don't Stop Me Now_,' His arms reaching towards Hermione as if he were about to pull her up on to the table with him.

"Oh no," She groaned, as Seamus grabbed her upper arms, hauling her onto the table; and promptly twirling her as Parvarti was helped up by Dean.

"Oh yes!" Seamus laughed, as a different vinyl with a far more dance like beat was put on the gramophone, and the lights switched off. Lots of dim lights begun to pop up. A cheer burst from the revellers as Draco shook his head in wonder, and the dancing begun to pick up in full. The party beginning to truly start as someone charmed the gramophone to become much louder than it was previously. A firework was let off, and the Gryffindors cheered, the memories of the Quidditch victory parties fresh in their minds as the other houses stared in astonishment.

Groups of people had gathered to dance with one another or talk in corners with a drink and food as they bobbed their heads in time to the music, Seamus had moved over to Hannah as Ernie looked on with bemusement, a bottle of Butterbeer nearly empty in his hand. The common room was packed, the bedrooms had been filled with the chess tables and things they didn't want broken and locked away, but still the room gasped for space; the party had proven more popular than Hermione could have imagined.

The Slytherins who had chosen to attend were being pointedly ignored by other houses, with the exception of Nott who was talking to Ernie heatedly about gobstones, the pair of them enthralled with their own conversation. Segregated to the corners and sides of the room were wary looking members of the house of the snake, drinks gripped closely, eyes watching with awe and wariness. They were clearly torn between leaving early and wanting to join in.

Draco was talking to Daphne and Blaise; the small group were looking about with astonishment, Daphne's classically beautiful face was split with a huge smile. Blaise seemed to look as if he were considering other things as another firework was set off above his head, and a Hufflepuff girl squeezed her way past him with a bunch of glowsticks in her hand. Draco looked quizzically at the girl, before looking up and catching Hermione's eye. He grinned at her and raised his drink, before going back to talking with Daphne.

:: :: ::

"Look at her like that again, and I'll smash your face in." He said threateningly as Draco turned in confusion.

"What?" He asked, meeting the livid eyes of Dean Thomas, the stench of Butterbeer strong on his breath.

"I know you're Head Boy, and she is Head Girl, but all she belongs to Weasley. They just have to figure it out is all." Dean hissed, as the party goers continued to dance about them, spilling their drinks and cheering as their favourite songs came on.

"What?" Draco repeated, clutching his bottle of drink closer to him, his expression stunned as Dean clenched his fists.

"You don't get to look at girls like Granger the way you are Malfoy." Dean said, stepping closer and invading Draco's personal space. "People who lock others up in their fucking cellars to have them tortured and killed, do not get to have girls like Hermione Granger." He said carefully, a dangerous thread stinging every syllable in a way that managed to chill Draco's blood; the heat of the common room not managing to pierce his skin.

"I'm not looking at her badly," He attempted to defend himself as Dean began to glower, the auburn locks of Ginny beginning to come into view behind him, her eyes narrowed quizzically.

"Oh yes, yes you are. You look like you could eat her alive. Knowing how depraved you are Malfoy, I wouldn't put it past you to actually kill her and eat her; you're just that low of a human being." Dean spat, as a wave of sickness came over Draco.

"I'd never kill." He said dumbly, the image of Dumbledore attempting to talk him out of it flickering before his eyes, his own wand out stretched.

"Oh I'm sure. I'm really sure." Dean said sarcastically as Ginny moved closer, obviously listening.

"Good." Draco said dully, not really listening anymore.

"Malfoy!" Hermione said out of nowhere, dancing beside him clearly tipsy, her eyes alight with pleasure, her hair messed up. "I told you a party is good fun!" She laughed, not noticing the tense situation between himself and Dean.

His expression softened immediately, smiling warmly at her.

"You did." He agreed as a furious roar came from Dean. Without warning, pain splintered up his broken arm, shattering it into a million little pieces and stabbing his chest furiously. The dark room seemed to become darker, and a girls scream that wasn't Hermione's pierced over the music.

He staggered, swaying as another blow fell onto his forearm, and a sharp crack made several of the nearby dancers stop and stare at the source of the noise.

"I TOLD YOU NOT TO LOOK AT HER THAT WAY!" Dean bellowed, as the lights switched on, but the room still seemed dark to Draco.

Wands started to be drawn, aimed at the Slytherins who were clinging to the walls in horror.

"Don't you fucking dare!" Ginny yelled as the music came to a sharp stop, her own wand drawn, Daphne pinned to the wall behind her; Ginny standing protectively in front of her.

With a heavy slump; Draco fell to the floor, clutching his arm and fighting for consciousness as Seamus grappled with Dean beside him. Wands continued to be pointed in every direction, many Slytherins standing with their hands up, throwing terrified glances between each other as Hermione stared at Dean with horror. The laughter that had previously filled the room, gone. Her body sobering up immediately.

With dread, she realised Draco hadn't fought back. He couldn't. He was Head Boy. McGonagall had set him up to take the beatings of an entire angry, distrusting school.

People thought his trial was fixed.

People wanted him to have the Dementors Kiss.

There was nothing he could do or he'd face a fate worse than death. His future would be completely decimated. The chance to redeem himself would be gone.

Hermione raised her wand, and with a loud bang, she found herself the centre of attention.

"If this is not your common room, you leave now. Dean, fifty points from Gryffindor for attacking another student, your Head Boy." She said quietly, as Dean let out a frustrated yell, members of other houses looked at her in surprise for removing points from her own house, "Ginny, help me take Malfoy to the Hospital wing." She said, hoping to Merlin McGonagall wasn't on her way.

:: :: ::

"Merlin, this is what happened to Potter isn't it? When that damn prat Lockhart tried to fix him after Quidditch." Draco groaned, watching his previously broken arm flop about like a limp fish, the bones completely removed by the expert wand touch of Madam Pomfrey.

"Sounds like you paid an awful lot of attention to Harry way back then," Hermione smirked, confirming Draco's suspicions. He threw her an agonised look as the medi-witch returned with the bottle of Skele-grow, Draco's face screwed up with distaste as she poured out his dose.

"You're not going to like this one bit," she warned him, offering him the glass with a sympathetic glance, "but that arm was completely shattered, I wasn't able to do anything with an arm that broken." She said apologetically as Hermione gave her an understanding nod.

"Bottoms up." Draco grimaced, raising the glass above his head in a mock toast before bringing it to his lips. He chocked the concoction down, spluttering in disgust as he forced himself to swallow it.

"Now, Miss Granger, I'm afraid you'll have to leave, Mr Malfoy here needs to sleep and it's well past bed time for everyone in this school." Madam Pomfrey said briskly, and Hermione jumped, realising she'd somehow been expecting to stay; despite that being impossible given where they were.

"Oh, right of course, I must be tired," she said with a strange high pitched voice, as Madam Pomfrey nodded in agreement. "I'll see you tomorrow Malfoy, when we can go over the Prefect timetables," she smiled wishing she could lean over and kiss him without a million questions being raised. His expression was careful, his eyes longing as he smiled back at her.

"Sounds thrilling," he replied drolly as Madam Pomfrey began to pointedly draw his curtains closed.

"Sweet dreams!" Hermione said, leaving the hospital wing, her mind filled with distress and shame.


	28. Forgive and Flourish

**Beta'd by Maddiechu**

"You need to go talk to Dean." Ginny said at the entrance of the Great Hall, the circles under her eyes the evidence of the late night they'd shared, her hands filled with toast in a napkin.

"Why?" Hermione asked, taking the toast offered to her by the girl and looking questioningly at her, waving to Parvarti and Daphne who were walking to join them.

"You need to hear what he said to Malfoy before he decided to re-break his arm." Ginny said seriously, her eyebrows rising as her expression became hard, her point hammered home. The smell of toast made her stomach churn with hunger, but Ginny's warning added a sour note, and she sighed, taking the first bite.

"It's bad isn't it?" Hermione guessed dully, as she adjusted her bag on her shoulder.

"Yes."

"What's bad?" Parvarti asked, fiddling with her hair clip that seemed to be slipping out of place as Daphne looked sheepish beside her.

"My stupid ex." Ginny replied, nodding to the Slytherin girl with a small smile on her lips.

"I…I…I just wanted to say thanks…for last night." Daphne said to Ginny, her cheeks flushing quickly as the three Gryffindor women stared at her in shock.

"You kept me in my Quidditch captaincy, least I could do." Ginny smiled, her face lighting up with the kindness she was known for.

"Even so, you…defended me; and I thank you." Daphne said again with a formal note slipping, Ginny smirked; seemingly noticing something Hermione and Parvarti couldn't fathom and shook her auburn head.

"Did you want to come to our study group?" Hermione found herself saying to Daphne suddenly, as Ginny nodded her head in agreement and Parvarti smiled encouragingly.

"You'd be the first Slytherin to join," Parvarti smirked, as Daphne began to blush harder, biting her lip and lifting the toast she held in her hand like it were a shield.

"Yes…I think…I think I'd like that." She decided finally, as the Gryffindor girls smiled brightly at her.

"I'll send you a note when we next meet," Hermione said to her as Daphne sighed in relief; behaving as though she'd expected an ambush.

"Thank you, I better go give this to Malfoy." She smiled tentatively, as Parvarti's expression changed to one of excitement.

"Crush on him?" She asked as the girl made to leave, only to stall and grimace with disgust.

"Oh, ew." She shivered, looking horrified at the idea, and Hermione laughed in an oddly high pitched manner. "He's…really not my type. Maybe when I was thirteen and Pansy hadn't had her claws latched into him, but now…no." Daphne explained, opening up and speaking to them as if they were friends.

"See you later," Ginny said pointedly as Parvarti opened her mouth to speak again. Taking the escape given to her, Daphne smiled sheepishly and fled down the corridor.

"You know…now Pansy isn't speaking to her, I think Daphne could actually be a nice girl." Hermione considered, watching the golden blonde scurry away.

"You and me both," Ginny admitted, nodding her head more to herself than anyone else. "Anyway, you better go find Dean, I'll see you in the free period we share; can we start on my house? Harry has a break in a few days, and he wants to get started."

"Oh sure, sure, I'll meet you in the common room." She agreed, hugging the youngest Weasley fondly, taking care to not get butter in the girl's hair as they parted. Parvarti smiled and waved, before falling in beside Hermione with her all too familiar curious expression.

"You need to find Dean?" She asked hungry for gossip once more.

"Apparently," Hermione sighed, "Gin said he said something to Malfoy before he attacked him. I think I need to know it."

"Well, he's right there." Parvarti said, pointing to a man just ahead of them in the corridor, "DEAN!" She yelled suddenly, making the portraits jump back and twitter amongst themselves with irritation; the students looking around to see who was summoning who. Dean spun around, waving to Parvarti who was waving him over, he nodded, and clapped Seamus on the shoulder; who gave him a stern parting look before heading off to where he was needed. Hermione took another bite of her toast, determined to at least get a few bites of breakfast before the drama of the day started in full.

"Hey Parv, Hermione," Dean greeted them smiling at the pair, his eyes slightly reserved when they settled on Hermione.

"Hey, look, Hermione needs to speak to you," Parvarti said, making her intentions clear without saying it; she wasn't going anywhere.

"Does she?" Dean said warily as Hermione nodded, swallowing the bite of toast she'd just inhaled.

"Yeah, look, let's find an empty classroom." She said, gesturing to the pointing students who had been at the party the night before, and were gathering in small expectant groups, gesturing and whispering between themselves. Hermione threw them a murderous look as Parvarti eagerly checked the room closest to them, apologising profusely as she noticed the professor inside.

"Next one," Hermione said, knowing it to be almost always empty from the time she'd spent teaching Harry the summoning charm. Parvarti nodded, and Dean strode towards it, walking in confidently.

"Soo…" Dean said, watching as Hermione closed the door behind them, and leant against it, unsure of how to start.

"Ok, I think the best way of saying it is this: Gin said to me you said something to Malfoy before you attacked him; what was it?" She asked, feeling the words fall out of her like vomit. Dean looked awkward for a moment, suddenly extremely interested in the stone floor and the desk he was leaning on. Parvarti was attempting to not look as though she had a front row seat to some of the best drama, and a brief, horrifying thought of Parvarti speaking to the press crossed Hermione's mind before she quelled it.

"I said to him he better stop looking at you the way he does. I said that you and Ron just needed to figure it out. I said to him that he didn't deserve a girl like you." He said in a garbled manner before looking suddenly enraged, "but seriously, you over reacted – taking fifty points, I mean, isn't that over kill?" He demanded, looking furious. Hermione stared at him, her own rage building up; mingled with latent frustration and sheer annoyance.

"I. Do. Not. Want. To. Be. With. Ron." She said furiously, ignoring Dean's demand as she clenched her fists and Parvarti looked stunned. "I have spoken to Ron about this, and we both agree being together would be a mistake neither of us want to make. Ron and I are done. We never happened, so we're even more than over." Hermione spat, livid that everyone seemed to be making decisions on her romantic life for her. "As for the points…what do you think McGonagall would have done!"

Dean gaped at her in astonishment; not expecting her quiet deadly fury.

"Taken points, but not that many!" He defended as Hermione rolled her eyes.

"She took thirty from Ginny yesterday for not even laying a finger on someone, but for provoking Daphne to assault Pansy. Daphne had fifty points taken and detentions for some time!" Hermione retorted, "I was being kind not giving you detentions, I just took points that can easily be earned back! You started a fight Dean! You attacked the Head Boy! I'm the Head Girl! What was I supposed to do? Stand there and encourage you? What's worse is that I learn you attacked Malfoy over me! You are unbelievable. Why can't people think about what _I_ might want. Not what you all expect me to do." She sighed, letting her anger go as Dean's expression changed to one of extreme guilt.

"I'm sorry Hermione, you're right. I never considered what you might have wanted. I know it's no real excuse, but I was drunk too; and Malfoy…" Dean's face contorted to one of anger again, as self-righteous anger slipped through his senses.

"I get it Dean; I was tortured on his dining room floor." Hermione said softly, sympathy dripping from every syllable as Dean closed his eyes, the memory haunting his expression.

"I didn't speak at his trial despite being asked because I thought…I really thought he was going to Azkaban. I thought my speaking would be just unnecessary after everyone else's testimonies. I didn't want to see the bastard again. Now he's swanning about the damn school as Head Boy! What the hell was McGonagall thinking?!" He said frustrated, as Parvarti began to look as though she was intruding, her face mildly nauseous.

"I don't really know what happened at the trial. I was only there because I submitted evidence. All I know is that he was made to pay a very hefty fine. McGonagall made him Head Boy, because he's exactly who the Slytherin's need right now. House unity is really important Dean. We've just had a war! I get that you don't like him, and I'm not asking you to, but…we can't keep living in hatred like this. She made him Head Boy because the Slytheirn's need to see that someone who was literally on the brink of throwing his life away can succeed again, that people _forgive_ mistakes others have made." Hermione said quietly, as Dean looked as though he was on the verge of a shouting fit.

"He locked us up in his wine cellar!" Dean repeated indignantly.

"Draco. Personally?" Hermione asked pointedly as Dean flushed with annoyance. "Because when I got there, he lied to his families faces about Harry's identity. He said he didn't know who it was." Hermione said feeling incredibly defensive all of a sudden.

"Ok. Fine. Not him. But…"

"I get it Dean. I really do. But do me a favour; please. Don't start fights. I get that you're angry at him, but just don't speak to him. Don't do anything that you don't have to with him. Take your anger out some other way." Dean nodded, sighing and wringing his hands, his expression still conflicted.

"I get it." He repeated Hermione's words, nodding his head more vigorously and pushing himself up off the desk. "I still don't like Slytherins." He said defiantly and Hermione laughed.

"I'm not asking you to." She smiled kindly and Dean grinned at her.

"Sorry Hermione." He apologised again, clapping his hand on her shoulder and looking at her sincerely.

"It's not a problem. We best get to class."

:: :: ::

"Ok, let's work this out." Jenna said with a sigh to her voice, the autumnal chill to the air making her shake her limbs to keep herself warm, the team spread out before her. "Malfoy has just got out of the hospital wing this morning; I don't particularly want him heading back in there considering we've the first match of the season coming up. However, it's obvious we've got…issues." She finished slowly, staring her glowering, angst filled team down; watching them shift their weight from foot to foot.

"Yeah we've got issues." A dark mutter came from beside him, and he glared at the boy to his left, bored with empty threats.

"Exactly, nice to see you agree with me," Jenna sighed in a defeatist manner, gesturing to the speaker. "I can't have this team fighting. I never expected to get captain, but once Max went full jackass, I got it. So we're going to have to work this out. Slytherin needs to win the Quidditch cup. We need it. We need to finally get something out of all this hatred we get. The rest of the school hates us because of our reputation; but…what is our reputation exactly?" She asked them, crossing her arms over her chest and staring at them pointedly, ignoring the chilly wind that hinted to Octobers dawning.

"Purebloods." Someone said, and Draco rolled his eyes as Jenna looked mildly irritated.

"Yes, right. Excellent Mason. Excellent. Everyone in the school hates us because we're purebloods." She repeated sarcastically, as Mason looked proud of himself, a spectacularly doughy face splitting into a dozy smile. "It's sort of the right answer though," she sighed, as Draco looked at her intrigued, wondering where this was all going. The first quidditch practise of the season was looking rather entertaining for all the wrong reasons.

"Is it?" He asked her wanting to hear her justification. "They hate us just because we're purebloods?" He challenged as Jenna looked at him confused.

"Well I guess it's more than that." She answered, redoing her messy bun on her head as it slipped.

"Why do the rest of the school hate Slytherin." Draco asked her outright, settling his body weight onto his hovering broom, and casually floating on the spot; his silvery eyes piercing.

"Because we're pureblood and because…" She trailed off looking mildly uncomfortable as the rest of the team began to look a mixture of angry and confused.

"Because you belong to our house!" The dark mutterer from before said violently, and Draco sighed, bracing himself for another assault.

"Oh yes, it's just me. I alone am responsible for over a thousand years' worth of bad reputation. Just me." He answered sarcastically, meeting the boys dark eyes fearlessly.

"Your family are." He retorted, and Draco tipped his head to the side, thoughtfully.

"I'm not going to deny they probably did have something big to do with it." He admitted, as his challenger stepped back in surprise, his expression melting to one of amazement.

"You drunk?" He asked him, searching for the source of Draco's lack of rising to the bait.

"No, I'm…bored." Draco replied, staring the entirety of the team down. "I agree with you by the way Jenna. The school does hate us because we're pureblood, but it's not just that. The majority of us have bullied them too. It's not a lie when Slytherin has produced the most dark wizards than any other house. We're…we're not good people. I certainly wasn't the best." He swallowed, watching their angry and confused expressions carefully, seeing them change to wary, as some of them gripped their brooms. "I'm just bored. I thought I was doing what I was supposed to be; being an unbearable dick all these years. That was what was expected of me. Now what? What did I earn?"

"Head Boy." The dark eyed boy interrupted spitefully.

"It's not a position of pride for me. McGonagall knew what she was doing when she put me in this position." He replied, as the dark eyed boys face contorted into disbelief.

"I don't understand." Jenna said for him, copying Draco's position on her broom, hovering like a stereotypical witch.

"I'm Head Boy. If I abuse my position; I'm done. I don't just mean in school, I mean my whole career. Everything. Have you seen the press lately, they love me. Anything to do with the last remaining Malfoy heir. If they hear I've had my position taken away from me, I'll never be able to get a job after Hogwarts. They'll go mad assuming what I've done to not be Head Boy anymore. I'm not saying I don't deserve the hate… I do, but McGonagall put me in the position to-"

"Make you humble from the sounds of things," A small blonde girl said watching him wearily.

"That and…"

"For Slytherin…" Jenna breathed blinking in confusion. "I wondered, really wondered when I heard the news that you were Head Boy. I mean, think about it for a moment. A Slytherin. Head Boy. And not just any Slytherin. One that had just escaped Azkaban. McGonagall must have been out of her mind. But it's for the house isn't it. After the war." She asked him, leaning forward as an eerie silence fell over the team.

"I don't get it." Mason said, interrupting the thinking of the gathered group.

"Our reputation is fucked mate, lowest it's ever been, McGonagall hoped to achieve something by putting Malfoy as Head Boy." The dark eyed boy said to Mason, attempting to fill him in.

"Not just anything." Jenna said, catching Malfoy's eyes with a curious glance.

"No, you're right. Dumbledore apparently saw something in me." Draco began, thinking of the man offering him help as his wand was pointed at his chest, his vision blurred from unspilt tears. "I doubt McGonagall would have gone to all this effort if it weren't for him. It's to make me a better person, but to make Slytherin see we can come back from the very worst we've been."

"But we're not going to be able to do that if we…" Jenna began sighing once more and running a hand over her forehead in despair. "Look, we won't be able to say we were a Slytherin with pride and without being beaten up in the corridors if we don't show we're better. We need to win the damn quidditch cup so we can show everyone we're succeeding at something. I can't even remember when we won something in the school, it goes well beyond Potter joining Hogwarts and the favouritism streak; right now, all it means to be a Slytherin is that we're…well, we're shit." She sighed again, as the team looked uncomfortable, an unpleasant note of truth adding to the wind that whipped about them.

"You're not going to start preaching about working together and teamwork are you?" The dark eyed boy sighed, looking repulsed.

"Of course I am! We can't be a team if we don't work together, you moron!" Jenna snapped, looking livid.

"Right, and how do you suggest we go about that."

"Oh for Merlin's sake Jason, whatever problem we have with each other; we need to work it out. We need to have a big old fight; get our anger out so that when the first match of the season comes up –it's us against Hufflepuff. In just three weeks' time, we destroy them on the pitch."

"So you want us to have a punch up?" He asked her with disbelief as Draco cringed inwardly, not wanting to head back to the hospital wing again.

"If it helps." She sighed and Draco swore, cracking his knuckles menacingly.

"That's the best idea you can come up with? Not making us have a practise match against one another? Force us to play roles we're uncomfortable with so we have to actually work together, Merlin, how did you get captain?" Jason asked her, shaking his head as Jenna looked stunned.

"That's…that's a much better idea." She said stunned, as Jason rolled his eyes.

"No shit." He replied, only to be ignored by the fledgling captain who was separating them all out into two small teams.

"Ok, we obviously will have to do without a seeker and a keeper for both teams, so who ever scores the most points; you set your team up however you feel is best. Let's…lets really actually win something this year, yeah guys?" Jenna said in a desperate attempt to be motivational. Draco smirked at her, understanding her plea and nodded, looking forward to finally playing some kind of Quidditch.

:: :: ::

"How was practise?" Hermione asked, placing her quill down and pushing herself away from the desk. Her long, somehow silkier brown hair braided over her shoulder, her skin flushing slightly as she turned to face him.

"Not bad actually," he answered, kicking the door closed with his foot, grabbing his broom in both hands to place it above his desk in its hooks. Pride of place. Hermione smirked to herself, watching as Draco began to tug at his Quidditch robes, eyeing the bathroom they shared eagerly. "I'll have a quick shower, then you can help me with my patronus, I've got most of my homework done for this week, so…" he said, tugging his sweater off roughly, and the overpowering earthy scent wafted over her.

"Sure, I've nothing else to do today, I've finished my homework, so why not." She shrugged, lying to herself and hoping her deceit wasn't noticeable, the half-finished essay behind her. The idea of spending more time with Draco was far more appealing than the magical theory behind conjuration.

"Great, see you in ten." He nodded, disappearing behind the bathroom door, his wand suddenly appearing, and fresh clothes shot from his room into the bathroom. Hermione laughed, turning back to her essay, determined to get at least a few more inches down before the night was spent attempting to summon guardians.

The shower turned on, and Hermione began to blush furiously, remembering the discussion she'd shared with Ginny about men in their Quidditch uniforms. She gripped her quill a little too tight, attempting to distract herself from the overly tempting thought of really studying Draco and his body after Quidditch practise, and succeeded; scrawling a fresh sentence of magical theory. Sounds of water being splashed about began to become far more appealing than her homework and Hermione gave in, rolling up her parchment and placing her quill away in its pot. Her evening routine of tidying up her desk began; she tucked away the essay in its cubby hole, smiling to herself. She'd become attached to the desk and this room, despite her love of the library, the easy peace she had here studying was just too irresistible. No overly giggly first years to interrupt her, or a couple thinking they were being sneaky by kissing between the shelves. She piled up the books, ordering them in their respective piles; her own belongings, loaned from the library, and ones that needed to be returned. The shower began to turn off, and she turned, surprised at the speed at which he'd washed wondering what was up. With a pair of books in her hands, she listened carefully, blushing at her eaves dropping knowing Draco was likely naked behind the door. It opened, and a fully clothed man walked out, staring at her in surprise.

"Why are you blushing?" He asked her, his hair completely dry.

"That was fast," She retorted, watching as he flicked his wand and his quidditch gear disappeared into his room.

"I'm a wizard." He shrugged and she laughed, realising he probably had used magic to help him shower. "So, patronus." He said pointedly, closing the bathroom door and stepping towards her.

"Ok yes, yes." Hermione answered, putting the books down and withdrawing her own wand. "What are you having trouble with."

"Memory." He answered a slight tinge to his cheeks. "Nothing I use is working."

"How happy are you in the memories?" She asked, suddenly serious and teacher like.

"Enough." He replied tightly, and Hermione pursed her lips, placing her hands on to her hips and looking at him disbelievingly.

"Right, show me your patronus then." Hermione retorted, as Draco bristled, immediately irritated.

"Expecto Patronum!" He obliged, and nothing happened. The room remained a gentle orange glow, no silver wisps to brighten the place.

"What are you thinking of?"

"What do you think of when you cast a patronus?" He countered defensive all of a sudden.

"My Hogwarts letter, and the visit from McGonagall," Hermione replied as Draco looked at her stunned. She sighed, walking around to sit on their sofa, recognising a conversation on the theory behind the charm was apparently necessary.

"That's it?" He asked her in disbelief, and she threw him an irritated look.

"Well it was the happiest moment of my life!" She exclaimed, "Everything about me suddenly made sense!"

"What do you mean?" He asked, coming to join her on the sofa, his movement smooth as usual. He dropped onto the couch, pulling her into him, his arm about her waist as he rested against the sofas arm. She laughed, wiggling into a more comfortable position.

"You know how you find out if a child is magical; unexplained incidents. Things like your hair growing back in one night after a bad haircut, or suddenly having the cat that was previously the other side of the road to you in your arms." She began, remembering her own magical mishaps, and Harry's, realising she'd never thought to ask Ron what his were. "Well, in the magical world, I'm sure you just shrug it off, and go 'oh look, that child isn't a squib, hooray.' But in the muggle world…those occurrences make you a complete freak and an outsider. When unexplainable stuff keeps happening to you, it can be hard to make friends. You get confused and angry because you don't know what is going on with you. It's frustrating, because the magical outbursts only happen when you're at an emotional high or low point; or you need to defend yourself. So…they can happen just enough that when you think it's a fluke, and some sort of miracle, it happens again. When I got my Hogwarts letter, and learnt all these things were genuine and normal for some people in the world…Draco, it was incredible. I had a place in the world. I wasn't crazy; my parents didn't need to look into doctors for me, I was normal. Magic actually existed. Of course it was going to be the happiest day of my life." She explained, as Draco listened in rapt silence, astonished with her honesty.

"No wonder you were such a jumped up little bitch if you didn't think you had a 'place in the world.' I can't imagine not knowing I was a wizard." He said in wonderment as Hermione scoffed at him.

"I was also eleven! I don't remember you being a bloody saint!" She retorted as he chuckled, kissing her shoulder.

"So it has to be the happiest day or moment of your life." He said dully, the merriment dropping from his teasing, hugging her suddenly closer.

"Yes," she said, twisting about so she faced him, he slipped down on the sofa with her movement, so his head was on the armrest. She smiled coyly, positioning herself so she was lying on top of him. "You need to think of the happiest thing you can, and focus on that emotion. Maybe your first kiss, your first time flying, or your favourite holiday; just as long as it's happy." She began to whisper, as Draco ran his fingers through her hair, tucking it behind her ear, her braid falling over her shoulder.

"I thought about the first time flying, but that wasn't enough, nor was my first kiss, or anything like that. All I can think about is bloody Dawlish saying how he expects nothing from me because-" He whispered, wrapping his arm about her waist again.

"No. Forget what he says. Don't do it to prove him wrong. Don't get angry in the middle of the cast. Be happy. You can do it. I believe in you." She whispered, finishing her sentence with a small fluttering series of kisses from his temple to his jaw. His breathing increasing as she pressed her lips to the side of his mouth. He cupped her cheek, pulling her lips to his and capturing her mouth with his. They kissed, slowly, each movement somehow measured and precise; but delivering a delicious slow release of pleasure down their spines, their bodies melding together. He pulled away, smirking slightly.

"Best not let you down then if you believe in me Granger," he smirked, calling her by her surname in a mocking hint to their previous history together, he picked up his wand once more, and aimed it at the coffee table; their heads turning to watch the wands tip together.

He took in a deep breath, his lips drawn together, as Hermione linked her hand with his, her other hand moving to his chest.

"Expecto Patronum," he said quietly.

The faintest, tiniest hint of silver slipped from the wand tip, simmering and shivering like moonlight.


	29. Backwards and Forwards

**Beta'd by Maddiechu**

**AN: I'm sorry it's been so long without an update, both my lovely Beta and I have been unbelievably busy in our lives, and I'm sure you'll all understand that that comes first. It just means that soon there will be an influx of chapters as we both try to catch up to where we should be. I hope you are having a fantastic Halloween. Much love to you all! **

The corridors were quiet, the lone titters from portraits the only real sound save the distant cackles of Peeves, and the groaning of the staircases as they moved. A student would pass them in the corridor, before vanishing, uninterested in the Head Boy and Girl walking to the Headmistresses office together. The first chills of autumn were beginning to seep into the castle, and Hermione wished she'd worn a jumper over her blouse; the extra layer was definitely beginning to be needed under her robes as she shivered slightly. The October weather almost welcome from the summer of blistering heat they'd just experienced.

Draco's hand slipped into hers, his thumb brushing the back of her palm gently as he smirked. She looked at him shocked, her gasp registered by the portraits they walked by, curious painted eyes following the pair.

"Draco I-"

"We're together Hermione; we discussed it in the hospital wing. We said we'd reveal it slowly. There isn't really anyone about. We can just add fuel to the rumours." Draco interrupted her, his fingers lacing with her compliant ones, as her cheeks reddened.

"I know I'm-"

"Not used to holding hands with a boy that bullied you?" Draco guessed dully as Hermione sighed.

"No, not this again. Merlin Draco, you're like a damn broken record." She said exasperated, as Draco's expression creased up into confusion.

"A what?" He asked her as Hermione looked surprised.

"A broken record, you know, when a vinyl breaks and just keeps repeating itself?"

"They don't do that!" Draco exclaimed, looking at her as if she were mentally challenged.

"They do in the muggle world!" She retorted, as a gasp interrupted them both. A young red-headed girl had come to a dead stop in front of them, her brown eyes wide with a mixture of fear, confusion and sheer astonishment; the books she'd been carrying a puddle on the floor in front of her.

"You're…" she gasped, her eyes darting between them as she bent down to collect her books.

"Engaged." Draco drawled without batting an eyelid, his free hand slipping into his suit pocket, his robe pushed back behind his arm as he observed the girl's reaction.

"Draco!" Hermione chided, squeezing his hand in displeasure as he smirked at her, watching the girl struggle to compose herself in obvious amusement. She shuffled the books about on the floor in a failed attempt to pick them up, her eyes glued to the two Heads of Hogwarts until Hermione sighed, rolling her eyes, her wand withdrawn.

With a deft flick, the books flew into the air, before falling haphazardly into the bag, struggling to fit.

"Go," Hermione said, unsure as to where the loss of her patience had come from. An unsettled sensation at the base of her spine as she realised she simply wasn't ready to have everyone know she had a boyfriend, let alone a controversial one. The girl nodded, her eyes still attached to their joined hands, before she stumbled past them, knocking into a suit of armour as she watched Draco's thumb move over the back of Hermione's hand.

"Well that was so much better than I could have hoped for." Draco said to Hermione, a smirk dancing on his features.

"You find a lot of this amusing don't you?" Hermione sighed, as they began to walk again, albeit at a slightly faster pace than before.

"Of course," he sniggered, "I can't be mean, but I can enjoy watching people flounder at nothing." He said nonchalantly as Hermione looked at him stunned, her brown eyes wide.

"You actually enjoy watching people in awkward and embarrassing situations?" She asked in disbelief, the idea of rumours all over the school plummeting from her mind as she wondered how much of the old Draco Malfoy she knew was still struggling for control.

"Yep, I have for as long as I can remember." He shrugged, not recognising Hermione's tortured expression.

"Did…did your parents encourage that by any chance?" Hermione asked tentatively, her eyes forward.

"Not really, they had other things to do," He smiled, as a boy gawked at them on the stairs, a copy of the _Daily Prophet_ in his hands.

:: :: ::

The waiting gryphon of the Headmistresses office was occupied, a pair of Aurors stood by it, clearly waiting. Draco looked to Hermione warily, and she smiled at him encouragingly, before looking to see who the two aurors were. She felt his fingers slip away from her hand, and her heart dropped, despite her understanding. To have the school begin rumours about the possibility of them having a real relationship was one thing, the ministry having those rumours was quite another.

The two aurors hadn't noticed them yet, and were instead in quite a deep conversation with one another, the male was taller than the woman, her dirty blonde hair tied up in a pair of braids that had been knotted together, giving her quite a sophisticated style. The man on the other hand hadn't even attempted to calm his unruly black hair, quite reminiscent of…

"Harry?" Hermione asked, much louder than she expected. The man turned around at the sound of her voice, and his spectacled face split into a bright grin.

"Hermione!" He called back, waving to her as she laughed, and set off at a run down the corridor, her Head Girl status forgotten as the old habit of rule breaking began once more. Draco sped his pace up, his hands in his pockets, his expression wary.

"Harry," Hermione repeated panting a little, "What are you doing here?" She asked as the woman turned to introduce herself.

"Oh, sorry, Ava this is-"

"Hermione," Ava smiled warmly, as Harry looked astonished.

"We met at the trial Harry, she was my guardian."

"Oh, right," Harry replied as the two women smiled at each other, remembering the budding friendship that could have blossomed given more time together.

"So, what are you two doing here?" Hermione pressed, as Draco reached them, nodding to Harry and the Auror carefully, refusing to stand by Hermione's side, instead hovering by her shoulder, almost protectively. Harry's eyes narrowed with suspicion, as he remembered his behaviour at Diagon Alley.

"We have to talk about…"

"Ah, I see the meetings will overlap today, I am quite certain you Aurors were due here in an hour," McGonagall interrupted as the four of them jumped, not having heard the sound of the stairs shuddering into motion.

"Ah, no…I think…I think it'll be fine if they did join us Professor," Harry began, throwing them both a wary and apologetic look.

"We did come an hour early Madam, but…this has turned out to be ideal." Ava agreed, looking to the pair of them with an equally as careful expression. The pit of Hermione's stomach turned over in horror, and she looked to McGonagall curiously.

"Well, let's hear what you have to say then." She said, stepping to the side and ushering the four of them in.

:: :: ::

"People are out for blood," Harry said grimly, "The idea of Shacklebolt getting rid of the Dementors hasn't gone down well. People hated them when they were in place, but the idea of banishing them when there are still Death Eaters about to be given the Kiss…" his voice trailed off, and his eyes focused on Malfoy, curious and wary at the same time.

"I know Potter, my families reputation is at an all-time low." Draco sighed a faint roll of his eyes escaping as he slipped his hand into his pockets.

"I think you're living in a nice little bubble Malfoy if you think that your reputation is at an all-time low. There is talk about putting your mother in hiding, and people want you to have the Dementors Kiss. This isn't a joke. The minister is doing everything he can to make people trust in the justice system." Harry said seriously, his eyes narrowing on Malfoy, as Hermione's blood ran cold. She relaxed in her seat, wishing to melt into it, as breathing became harder.

"What do you want from me?" Draco asked grimly, gripping his suits lapel with an ever whitening grip, his expression dark.

"It's not I, it's the people. Your wand is wanted for the last few spells you've cast. People want to know you're not meddling in dark arts; Madam Rosmerta wants a public apology and Hermione…" Harry swallowed, turning to look at his oldest friend, "they want to know you're not under the imperious."

"What." She said, not wanting to move from the softness of the chair as the words Harry was saying sunk over her, the horror of them chilling her bones.

"The press…"Ava began, looking awkward and as if she could be anywhere in the world but where she was, "There have been pictures of-"

"Malfoy and I, yes, I understand." Hermione interrupted coldly, feeling dread boil up into her stomach, and out her mouth. Ava looked as if she'd been slapped, and guilt began to mingle with the dread, as she threw and apologetic look to the new auror.

"People are convinced you are under the imperious curse Hermione." Harry finished for Ava, as the dark eyed woman struggled to look Hermione in the face.

"The public think I've put a bloody war-heroine under the imperious." Draco drawled his upper lip curling in derision, his anger palpable.

"To be fair Malfoy, you aren't a stranger to the imperious curse. Hence Madam Rosmerta." Harry retorted. Draco's cheeks tinged slightly with pink. He growled lowly, straightening the lapels of his suit jacket as McGonagall sighed.

"Let's not have this devolve into petty arguing." She interrupted, as Draco opened his mouth to speak. "Miss Brett, I believe you can probably sum this entire situation up without the emotional background noise."

"Well…yes," Ava said slightly startled, she pulled herself together, avoiding Hermione's gaze and crossed her arms over her chest in a casual position. "Quite simply Mr Malfoy, you either meet the public's demands, or you spend a month in Azkaban. We have enough evidence to put you there, and it will happen should you fail to comply. In short, we know where to find you. If you don't agree to acceptable terms to meet these demands, we take you now. You can have your school work sent to Azkaban, although no magic is allowed, so you'll have fun with all the rune translations and theory work."

"Why?" Draco asked dully. His expression was pained, drained and simply defeated.

"What do you mean, why?" Hermione breathed, finding her voice again, despite the feeling of a hand about her heart, and the constricted mess it was making of pumping her blood.

"I mean why people are picking on me now? Why is this happening now, why not in the summer, why not directly after my trial?" He said, a thin note of anger ringing in his words.

"The press," Ava supplied, "they've made it seem like you're having a happy old time here at Hogwarts. It's not exactly what people hope to read about when they read the news. People want reassurance, there are still a few Death Eaters loose, and they read about one who has escaped _going back to school_? Pictured with Hermione Granger? Think how it looks."

"But to think I'm under the imperious curse?" Hermione said helplessly, looking to Ava with a pained expression.

"We've just had a war Hermione, people want to reassure themselves they know what someone under the imperious looks like," Harry said with a shrug.

"And what happens when it's proved I'm not," she asked harshly, "then what do you tell the public?"

"That you aren't, and they'll have to deal with it."

"Just deal with it? Harry, you and Ava have literally just come to Hogwarts to tell me that I am apparently under the imperious curse, Malfoy will be taken straight to Azkaban if he doesn't comply with whatever your terms are, and your explanation for it all is just…poor!" She snapped distressed as Draco looked to her, his silver eyes full of fear and a thread of comfort.

"I can't offer anything else Hermione!" Harry exclaimed, the pressure he was under showing, "If it'll stop riots breaking out, or another war then I'm all for it!"

"You think there will be riots or a war?" Draco asked quietly, as McGonagall paled quickly.

"Did you have any idea of how bad the corruption at the Ministry is and was Malfoy?" Harry asked, suddenly just as tired as Draco was.

"Honestly, no, I didn't, I knew we would have the Minister over for dinner once in a while, and you saw us at the World Cup. Father had links into every office, but what they did, if anything for him, I couldn't tell you." Draco said, sensing the tense atmosphere in the room. McGonagall flicked her wand, summoning a plate of sandwiches, and a pitcher of pumpkin juice, her expression still ghostly white, and far too similar to the pallor of the grey lady.

"It's awful Malfoy. It's just awful." Harry said, falling into a chair and picking up a sandwich. Ava looked unsure, as if she were eager to listen, but didn't want ministry secrets spilled to possibly unworthy ears.

"What's happening Harry?" Hermione said, leaning forward and grabbing a sandwich, watching as McGonagall methodically chewed one, steeling herself.

"Like I said before, one of Shacklebolts moves was to get rid of the Dementors as fast as he could. Only doing that has proven so much harder than we expected, they're well protected. The thing is though, no one expected the public to put up such a fight to keep the Dementors, even though…when you think about it, and it makes sense. We sort of had it easy in the tent on the run. We were running, but…we had you Hermione, and not everyone is as good at researching and learning magic as you are. People were being captured left right and centre, their families tortured, members kidnapped because they were apparently muggle-born…it was outright fear. When you know that you have a ministry with a creature with the ability to destroy someone's soul…" Harry swallowed, looking mildly sick at the idea of what had been deemed an acceptable punishment for so long.

"It's reassuring, it feeds into your sense of vengeance," Ava covered "when you've just had most of your family destroyed by Death Eaters, you want their families destroyed too. Logic doesn't come into it. Although, it makes you feel safe too, to know that they're beyond dead, they'll never truly exist again. They can't do what they did before." She said as Hermione and Draco listened quietly, McGonagall looking concerned.

"When Shacklebolt started making real moves to get rid of the Dementors, people started coming out of the woodwork. Those who the Malfoy family had paid off, the Lestranges, the Blacks…all with tales about being threatened, curses in place, magic that the unspeakables swear up and down doesn't exist. They won't get rid of the Dementors until the people who have terrified them so much are gone, and gone completely."

"But you just said that they'd been paid off, so why would they want us dead." Malfoy asked dumbly, his expression contorted with confusion.

"Not everything is about money Draco," Hermione sighed, thinking of the Weasleys. "In fact, when you've been scared to the point some of these people have, money will stop being a solution to the problem. Money doesn't buy happiness." She continued, as Draco looked as if he were falling down a deep pit.

"Yeah, we've looked their finances over; they've been paid off, and paid off well. There are houses with no mortgage, and Gringotts vaults with enough savings to live comfortably for years. They're fine. Money isn't an issue." Ava added, helping herself to a sandwich and finally meeting Hermione's apologetic gaze. She smiled, looking mildly ashamed before moving to sit next to her.

"So what do you want from me?" Draco asked, confused.

"First off, you have to make the public apology that Madam Rosmerta asked for. That would really help stem the possible riot from you having such a wonderful life at Hogwarts. We need your wand. We can't have the accusations of unforgivable curses being used and us just apparently ignoring it. We will also need to find some way of making sure the curses and hexes that have been apparently placed on them don't exist, despite what the unspeakables say. We will need more evidence, and people aren't willing to be…studied." Ava told him.

Draco grunted, looking irritated and rather harassed. He dug his hand into his pocket, withdrawing his wand.

"Here," he drawled, sneering at them angrily. Ava nodded, taking his wand and placing its tip to her own wands tip. Her lips moved briefly and their wands glowed, Ava was watching carefully, her brows raising a little as she stared.

"Clean," She announced finally, passing his wand back to him. He snatched it away, and began to twirl it about his fingers, as if he felt safer with it in his grasp than without. Hermione watched him carefully, studying him and wondering how he behaved now to the years before. She still didn't know him as well as she would like, his moods were still an enigma, and right now was a tense time for him.

"Happy I've not been imperioused?" She asked with a slight smile. Ava smiled back at her, warmly, and gave her a slight nod.

"As for evidence of those apparent magics my family have cursed other families with, you'll have to speak to my mother." Draco said, still angry. "She will let you know what part of the library has been destroyed, if any of it at all, and will point you in the right direction. You're just lucky we keep records of bloody everything we do. Owning unknown curses would be exactly the type of thing to write down." He said sarcastically as Ava nodded seriously, and seemed to be making a mental note of the situation.

"And the public apology?" Harry prompted, earning himself a swift death glare from Draco.

"Yes. Tell her to set a time and a date, and even a length of parchment should she so desire and I'll do it." He retorted a resigned note to his words as his eyes flickered to Hermione, a dash of fear behind them before he looked away again, unable to fully meet her gaze.

"Good, we will do so; everything we came here for has been met." Ava announced, nodding to McGonagall knowingly, as if they'd shared some sort of private conversation without anyone else being aware of it. To Hermione's shock, Harry was doing the same, and McGonagall looked unbelievably worn, as if the entirety of her energy had been sucked from her. She narrowed her eyes questioningly at Harry, and he looked abashed, shaking his head in apology.

Harry and Ava stood clearly getting ready to leave, as Harry suddenly went bright red.

"Err…If I can Professor, I'd like to surprise Ginny." He admitted, as Ava began to melt behind him, her face a picture as to how adorable the whole thing was. Hermione smiled with amusement, as McGonagall gave a knowing smile.

"I believe Miss Weasley will be coming out of charms Mr Potter," she said blandly, as Harry beamed at her clearly delighted. He swept Hermione up in a rugged embrace, holding her tight as his goodbye, before charging out the room. Ava sighed, as Hermione looked shell shocked, straightening herself up from the hurricane Harry.

"He'll make an excellent Auror one day," Ava said to them, looking like she was the unlucky person in charge of a non-housetrained puppy. She smiled once more to Hermione, before trailing after Harry, her demeanour far more composed than Harry's had been.

"Well," McGonagall said, "shall we have our meeting?"

"Yes," Draco said, dropping harshly into a seat that had been vacated by Harry and pulling out his notes.

:: :: ::

He grabbed her, pulling her into an alcove, dragging her close to him.

"Don't you leave me Hermione." He growled into her ear, his skin soft and his cheek oddly hot, his hands rummaging through her hair. He tugged her closer, his arm sneaking underneath her robe, his hand deftly moving her blouse up and out the way so he could press his fingers against her skin. She gasped, turning into his neck, dropping a gentle kiss at the curve in which his shoulder met his neck.

"I hated you so much growing up," He whispered, as if he had no control over himself, his lips brushing her earlobe and sending shivers down her spine. She whimpered, unsure of what to do with the words he was whispering into her ear, and found her hands moving of their own accord up onto his chest.

"The feeling was mutual." She murmured into the pale skin of his throat, feeling as if she could sink for days into him, and never become bored with the way he embraced her.

"I can't go to Azkaban, not now I have you," He continued, oblivious to her speaking. She blushed, her cheeks a fire like crimson. He kissed her cheek, peppering kisses down her jawline until he managed to capture her lips.

She moaned kissing him back hungrily, the fact they were in a corridor where anyone could walk past at any time forgotten. He pushed at her, pressing her against the wall and crushing her beneath him, his lips moving against hers almost frantically. As if he knew something she didn't. As if it were the last time they would kiss. As if he had almost gone to Azkaban.

She grabbed at him, sliding her hands around his chest, one slinking over his shoulder, as his hands moved up to her face, capturing her completely.

There was no escape.

She wanted none.

His kisses become heady, changing from the frantic pace to slower, and gentle, his tongue flicking out to trace over her lower lip, asking for entry.

She parted her lips willingly, letting his tongue slip into her mouth, her own tongue happy to meet his.

"Is this some kind of joke?" Pansy asked them suddenly, her tone poisonous.


End file.
